


What We Lost (What We Will Be)

by DarknessAroundUs



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Found Family, Investigative Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Mystery, Sadness, Slow Burn, Teacher Betty Cooper, The Southside Serpents are a real gang, Writer Jughead Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-06-25 23:38:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 69,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/pseuds/DarknessAroundUs
Summary: When Jellybean dies in a car crash, Jughead returns home for the first time in almost a decade.Jellybean is dead, but her daughter, 4 month old Junebug, remains very much alive. With Junebug’s father only sporadically in the picture, Jughead assumes he’ll be given custody. When the will is read out loud both he and his sister’s best friend, Betty are in for a big surprise.They have a child to raise and a murder to solve.





	1. One Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> The Serpents are not depicted in the best light in this story. Sweet Pea is one of the primary characters and while I wouldn’t call him a villain (he’s too multifaceted for that), he definitely behaves badly in parts. If you love him, this probably wouldn’t be the easiest or best read.
> 
> In this story Betty grew up in NYC. Alice is from NYC too so there’s no connection with FP. 
> 
> A huge thank you is owed to KittiLee for being an incredible Beta and friend. She is so wonderful and she helps me see my own plot holes, so you don't have to experience them. This is the first multi chapter work I'm starting from the beginning with her.

On the 22nd of September Jughead is covered in dust and exhausted from work. He’s standing in the meat section of a grocery store trying to choose how much ground beef to buy for dinner when his phone rings. The call is from an unidentified number. Because the area code is Riverdale’s, he answers it anyway.  
He might not have been back to his home town for almost a decade, but it still has a piece of his heart. 

The voice on the other end of the phone doesn’t sound familiar. Only after listening to several seemingly nonsensical sentences involving the words “slide”, “Pop’s”, and “Junebug”, Jughead realizes that the male voice on the other end of the line must be Sweet Pea. Jughead’s never met the man, but he does know a great deal about him because Sweet Pea is Jellybean’s boyfriend and the father of her child, Junebug. 

Sweet Pea doesn’t sound particularly coherent, he’s all over the place and scattershot. Jughead wonders if he’s drunk. 

“Shut up,” Jughead says. “Just tell me what happened.”

“She’s dead.”

At first Jughead thinks Sweet Pea must be talking about Junebug. She’s still a little baby and babies are vulnerable. Even Jughead’s heard of Sudden Infant Death syndrome.  
It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that someone he’s related to but only ever seen in photos and over video chat has passed away. 

Then Jughead realizes that the “her” Sweet Pea is referring to is most likely Jellybean. It feels like the whole of his heart is torn from his chest. His hand tightens around the cell phone. The pads of his fingers press against the plastic casing. 

“Who’s dead?” he asks, wanting to make sure he’s not jumping to the wrong conclusion.

“Jellybean,” Sweet Pea says, and now it’s clear that on the other end of the line the man is weeping. Jughead leans forward, one palm pressing against the chest freezer. 

Jellybean was once Jughead’s closest companion. He was there when she walked for the first time, he baked her first birthday cake from a box. When she got older, she helped him too. It was Jelly that discovered Pink Floyd and shared it with him. It was Jelly that convinced him that it was better to leave her behind than get pulled into his father’s path. They knew all of each other's secrets growing up.

Over the decade since he’d left Riverdale, they’d drifted. They still talked once a week, and she came down to New York for a visit every year, but there were huge swaths of her life he was unaware of. She hadn’t even told him she was pregnant till eight months in. 

Still Jughead always assumed that somewhere down the line, they’d become close again, maybe not shared bedroom close (they were grown adults now after all), but maybe they’d be each others first phone calls.

As Jughead’s legs grow cool from being pressed against the chest freezer he understands that that time will never come, that the last member of his family that he cared about is dead. Bile rises in his throat, and it takes all his self-control not to puke.

“What happened?” Jughead says into the phone.

“She drove her car right into a freeway divider. It was raining out, she must have skidded.” Sweet Pea’s voice breaks.

“And Junebug?”

“She’s fine,” Sweet Pea says. “Betty had her.” Jughead’s never met Betty, but Jelly’s talked about her constantly since they met three years ago. She’s Jelly’s best friend and housemate. A teacher at Riverdale High School were Jelly worked as a secretary.

In the pictures Jughead has seen of the baby, Betty’s often in the background cleaning or cooking. Sometimes she’s holding Junebug. Betty’s fair good looks and conservative appearance are a contrast to Jelly with her blue hair and numerous piercings, but Jughead’s grateful that the woman was clearly a supportive influence in his sister's life. Even if he’s a little jealous that she gets to be, while he does not.

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Jughead says. He thinks he hears Sweet Pea sob with relief on the other end of the line.

Jughead doesn’t know what happens next exactly, but at some point he finds himself back home with no ground beef. He must of called Archie because he’s stress eating the pizza Archie brought as Veronica packs his bag.

The next thing Jughead knows, he’s stepping off the jetway and into the Riverdale regional airport. It feels strange to be back. A decade ago, Jughead left here on a bus with nothing but a backpack. 

He spots a clear reminder of why he hasn’t wanted to return near the baggage claim. It’s a striking green snake patched onto a black leather jacket. Jughead had grown up with the Southside Serpent patch on the back of both his parent’s jackets, yet even as a child it made him uncomfortable. 

The man wearing the Serpent jacket turns around and Jughead recognizes that it’s Sweet Pea. He now has one more reason to be leery of the man.

He’s not surprised Jelly didn’t tell him about this, but he is surprised she’d date one at all. He didn’t think she’d forgive them for what they did to him.

Still Jughead acknowledges that Sweet Pea looks like shit. His eye bags rival Jughead’s own. It’s clear he’s been crying or drinking, probably both. 

“Hey man,” Sweet Pea says, slapping Jughead’s back like the two men know each other well. Still Jughead assumes that Sweet Pea’s going to raise Junebug and he wants to be in Junebug’s life so Jughead smiles and nods through tight lips. 

“I didn’t know you were going to pick me up. Thanks,” Jughead says.

“I figured you could use the ride. It’s late at night and you’ve never been to Jelly’s house before.”

“It’s ok with you and Betty if I stay?” Jughead asks.

Pea looks confused. “I don’t see why my opinion would matter. Only Betty and the Bug are in the house right now. Betty’s fine with it, of course.”

Jughead’s not sure about the ‘of course’. He’s a stranger to Betty after all. Then he wonders why Junebug is staying with Betty, not Sweet Pea, but he decides it’s better not to ask.

In Sweet Pea’s car, the other man must pick up on Jughead’s nerves because he turns to him and says, “You should know that everything that happened between you and the Serpents in the past is water under the bridge now.”

Jughead exhales and says, “That’s big of them.” He means it with a healthy dose of sarcasm, but Sweet Pea doesn’t pick up on that. Instead the other man smiles and nods like the phrase was intended to be a compliment. It does help relieve the tension in the car between them. 

Jellybean never told Jughead that much about her relationship with Sweet Pea. Jughead knew they’d been on and off for over four years now. That Sweet Pea had drinking and commitment issues (although Jelly never divulged details), but Jughead also knew they had fun together, as a couple and as friends. Jelly had told Jughead a story about Sweet Pea once that involved a lot of vaseline and a prank on a rude neighbor that made it clear that he was both goofy and caring. 

After Junebug was born, Sweet Pea was less involved than most fathers. But Jelly still mentioned him from time to time. Jughead just assumed that they were living together, but that clearly wasn’t the case.

“Betty and Junebug will be asleep when you get there,” Sweet Pea says. “But Betty knows you’re coming in now. She’ll meet you in the morning.

“What’s Betty like?” Jughead asked. After all she’s been taking care of his niece a lot, and they’ll have to spend at least the next couple of days together. 

“Nice,” Sweet Pea says with a surprisingly genuine smile. “Even when Jelly was really mad at me, Betty was never mean to me.”

Sweet Pea parks in front of Jelly’s house. It’s a bit of a surprise because it’s on the northside of town. Jughead’s seen pictures before, but it’s bigger than he imagined. One story tall but with a large footprint.

It’s dark inside, which isn’t a surprise.

Sweet Pea unlocks the door but then hands Jughead the key. “See you tomorrow,” he says, even though he and Jughead haven't made plans and the funeral’s not for four more days. Jughead salutes a goodbye.

One of the doors in the house is closed, but the other is open, and Jughead assumes that room was Jelly’s. He drops his rucksack on the floor. He flops on the bed and looks up at a ceiling full of band posters. It feels like a gut punch.

It’s like the ceiling of the bedroom in their trailer. He remembers what it was like to share a room with Jelly all those years ago. He closes his eyes and minutes later he’s asleep.

He wakes up to light filtering in through blue curtains rolls out of bed in search of a washroom. He finds it one door over, and after using it he heads towards the scent of brewing coffee. 

When he walks into the kitchen, he sees a blond holding a baby, and he knows that must be Betty and Junebug. Light is streaming in from the window above the sink and it gives Betty a halo of sorts. She’s wearing a loose silk robe with blue flowers. Junebug is curled and pressed against her left shoulder. 

Betty’s staring out the window. Jughead walks towards them, and he can see that she’s watching a deer in the yard, eating a leaf off a bush. 

Before Jughead gets too close he says, “Hi.”

Betty turns towards him and Jughead can’t help but admire the green flash of her eyes. Betty’s lips curl up into a smile, and the baby moves a little. Betty glances down at Junebug and Jughead follows her gaze. 

The baby is asleep, one tiny hand is raised. The babies coloring is more like Sweet Pea’s than Jelly’s and she already has an impressive head of black hair. The slope of her nose is exactly how Jelly’s was though, and it makes Jughead’s stomach tighten to see it.

“Good morning. I’m Betty Cooper.”

Jughead laughs lightly “I figured.” 

“This is the first time you’re meeting her right?” Betty asks softly. 

“Yes. Jelly and she were supposed to visit me next month.

Betty presses a kiss to the top of Junebugs head. It’s clear how much she loves the baby. 

“Do you want to hold her?” 

Jughead nods and then says, “It’s been a long time, so tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”

Betty hands the baby over and Jughead accepts her gently, trying to mimic Betty’s actions in holding her. Junebug stirs slightly at the transition, then stills. She feels like a heat pack against his shoulder.

A wistful look crosses Betty’s face, and then she says, “You look like a natural.”

The words in and of themselves seem simple and uncomplicated, but the way she says them gives them weight. He’s been wondering since Sweet Pea picked him up at the airport and barely mentioned his daughter at all, what was going to happen to Junebug.

He’d assumed initially that Junebug would be in the custody of her only living parent, now he suspected that wasn’t the case. He wondered if that realization was what Betty was gently pushing him towards or if it was a leap he made of his own accord. 

“I don’t feel like one,” Jughead says quietly. 

“Jelly told me all that you did for her.” 

Jughead meets Betty’s gaze and can’t help but appreciate her soft expression, the quiet glow of her skin in the morning sunlight.

“It wasn’t enough. But I tried.”

“I had parents that failed in different ways,” Betty says glancing away from him and out at the yard. The deer was gone now, and Jughead noticed how weedy it was. “But if I had a sibling that stood by me, it would have been much better.”

“Thank you for standing by my sibling,” Jughead says. 

“It was easy. She was my best friend. In some strange way, my life partner.”

In that moment Jughead realizes that he’s talking to his sister’s first phone call. Sweet Pea might have been important in other ways, but Betty was the one she could depend on, the one who offered steady love and support.

Betty’s lost a lot too, and he should do something to acknowledge that, but he can’t seem to make the words he wants to say come out in the right order. Betty beats him to it.

“She missed you so much,” Betty says. “I don’t think you’ll ever know how much she looked up to you.”

Jughead stays skeptically silent. He wants to believe these words, but he’s always been his own worst critic (at least he hopes he is).

“I know you’re doubting what I say. I know you couldn’t see each other much, but she talked about you constantly. In fact, I’m pretty sure I know too much about you because of her.”

“Oh really. Like what?” 

“You work construction with your best friend to make a living, but you just sold your first book to a publisher.”

“Anyone could know that,” Jughead says, even though he’s only told Archie, Fred, and Jelly about the book. It had felt like such a momentous occasion, the realization of a childhood dream. 

For a long time he had given up the idea of being a published author, caught up in the more tedious and time consuming duty of earning a living, but he’d never given up writing. Sneaking an hour or two most evenings. 

He wrote about Gladys leaving Riverdale, but instead of presenting it as the story of a mother abandoning her small children, he transformed it into a mystery, complete with a perpetrator who wasn’t Gladys. 

Last year Veronica bullied him into submitting it and that’s how he found the small press that’s publishing it. They have decent distribution but have yet to place a book on the New York Time’s Bestseller list, Jughead is more than fine with that. 

“Your favorite book is In Cold Blood and you are excellent at braiding hair. You once shoplifted Fruit Loops from the Piggly Wiggly because Jelly desperately wanted to try them. I have heard many stories about your epic appetite and I bet you’re hungry right now.”

Jughead can’t help but feel pleased that Jelly had been so proud of him and had kept him as an important part of her life even when he was so long distance.

“I am famished.” He admits.

“I can make pancakes if you don’t mind holding the Bug?”

“Does the Bug like pancakes?”

Betty laughs, “She’s still on a liquid diet.”

“Breast milk?” Jughead asks.

“No. I mean I wish, but Riverdale’s too small to really have a breast milk bank. I’ve had to teach her to like formula. Jelly always supplemented her supply with it, so it’s not a complete shock to Junebug’s system.”

Jughead just nods. He actually only followed about a quarter of that statement, but it has made him really aware of how much he’ll need to learn if he ends up being the one taking custody. 

Betty’s moving around the room now, cracking eggs and heating up skillets. She looks like she knows what she’s doing both in terms of cooking and Junebug. 

“I don’t know much about you,” Jughead says, feeling a little guilty about that fact. He knows Betty teaches English at Riverdale High and she didn’t grow up here, but beyond that, he doesn’t really know a thing.

“There’s not much to say,” Betty says with a shrug as she pours the first pancake onto the skillet.

“You moved here for a job right?”

“That and I needed to get out of NYC.”

“Why?” 

“I would always tell people that it was because a long term relationship ended, but Jelly would always interject that it was because of ‘motherfucking heartbreak’.”

Jughead laughs, that sounds like Jelly and it also let’s him understand their dynamics a bit. Betty was the stable older sister and Jelly was the rebellious counterweight, full of joy and drama. 

Breakfast comes together quickly, and Betty even brews him coffee which he drinks after setting Junebug down in something Betty calls a “bouncer”. The Bug stirs for a moment, but Betty keeps the bouncer moving with her foot and the baby soon goes back to sleep.

The coffee’s good and strong and the pancakes balance the drink with their sweetness. There’s even bacon. Jughead eats five pancakes before he’s ready to ask the question that’s been burrowing it’s way into his mind.

“Who has custody of Junebug?” 

Betty looks up from her own plate and says, “I don’t know. I just know it probably isn’t Sweet Pea.”

“Why not?”

“He asked Jelly not to put him on the birth certificate. He said he wanted to be in her life by choice not obligation.”

“What a load of shit.” 

Betty nods, her lips pressed and twisted “I mean it’s probably for the best. Pea’s not a terrible guy, but he’s unreliable, he drinks too much.”

Jughead files that away into his ever increasing list of grievances with the universe.

“Jelly has a will?” Jughead asks.

“Yes. She made it right after Junebug was born. The lawyer’s going to read it the day after the funeral.”

Jughead does the mental math and figures out that that’s five days from now. 

“She ever tell you who is in it?” Jughead ask. 

Betty eats a bite of pancake before shaking her head. Jughead thinks of all the way he’s not ready to be a parent and how moot all these worries are. He helped raise Jelly before he was even a teenager, now he has a job and a drivers license, certainly those things would help. 

But it does make him pay more attention to Junebug and to Betty during the rest of the day. Whenever Junebug fusses Betty knows what to do, and Jughead tries to take mental notes. 

It’s not just that Betty’s good when Junie fusses, she seems to be great at bestowing random acts of tenderness, a kiss on the forehead, a kiss on the cheek, a hug, a little dance after lunch.

Jughead feels a little strange watching all this, but he doesn’t feel ready to take the lead and Betty seems happy to take it. She even drives them to the funeral home to pick out the casket, a depressing job in every way, and meet with the minister. 

These are all terrible things to do and Betty cries more than once, so does Jughead, not that Betty comments on it. She just hands him a tissue and takes the baby from him while the minister who hasn’t noticed at all, drones on about lighting of all things. 

But these things have to be done. Jughead can tell she’s beyond beat by the time they leave there. Junebug’s asleep in her carseat and Betty’s shoulders are sagging. 

“Let me drop you off at home and I’ll pick up Pop’s.” Jughead offers.

“Are you sure? I could always make dinner.”

“And make me miss out on Pop’s?” Jughead sighs. He’s exaggerating for her sake. Even without the emotional toll hanging over both of them, this would have been a long day. He wants to give her some sort of break. She’s been taking care of the baby and him in all sorts of ways. Jelly was clearly lucky to call Betty her best friend. 

Jughead’s never been good at letting anyone into his life, particularly new people. If anyone else had spent the day with him, even Archie, he would have bit their heads off by now. He was half mad with grief already, but he didn’t feel that way about Betty. 

Maybe spending so much time around Jelly had taught her how to be around Jones’s.

Betty parks out front, gets the baby out, and then hands the car keys to Jughead. Or rather she tries, he doesn’t notice them right away because he’s staring at the house. 

“Earth to Jughead,” she says, and he turns to her and gratefully takes the keys. “What were you thinking about?”

“The house,” Jughead says. “When I was growing up, I always dreamed of living somewhere like this. Northside, a good roof, extra rooms.”

Betty smiles softly. “That might be why Jelly bought the house even when she couldn’t afford it. She had a very similar dream. But that’s why I moved in initially to help her with the mortgage.”

“Oh.” Jughead had lived in a city so long now that owning had always seemed impossible, but he’d always assumed Jelly made enough money to pay the mortgage, because since the downturn, houses in Riverdale were not as expensive, even on the northside. 

It hurts him to know that she could have asked him, but chose instead to ask Betty. 

“It really worked out when the baby came,” Betty says.

“You seem to love her so much,” Jughead says, peering down at Junebug, fast asleep in the infant car seat.

“I do,” Betty says and walks to the door. Even when Jelly was alive Jughead suspects that Betty helped a lot with Junebug’s care. It explains her practiced ease with the baby.

Jughead drives Betty’s car to Pop’s trying not to think of Jelly driving this route the last time. Although since he arrived someone has clarified that she was just driving near Pop’s not to or from it. 

Still he keeps an eye out on the road and he sees a spot about a quarter mile from Pop’s where people have left a makeshift memorial for Jelly. There are white flowers jammed into the fence on the side of the road, even a few stuffed animals. Jughead’s eyes brim with tears, but he keeps driving.

When he opens the door to Pop’s, he’s surprised to discover it smells the same as it always has, greasy but appealing, a lot different than the local diner around the corner from his current apartment. 

Pop comes over with a hug as soon as he enters. “It’s been too long,” he says.

“I know,” Jughead says. Before everything went wrong, before he had to flee, this was his safe place. He’d spent hours here on his own writing, with Archie talking about video games, and with Jelly so they could both escape their parents together. 

It wasn’t just the space though, Pop’s made the best burgers and milkshakes Jughead had ever had, and he still believed that to be true, even after Veronica bought him a twenty dollar one in Chicago.

“I’m so sorry,” Pop says, and Jughead doesn’t know what to say, so he pulls away and rattles off his order.

When Pop returns with the food Jughead tries to pay, but the man shakes his head. When Pop’s opens his mouth Jughead thinks he’s is going to say goodbye but instead he says “Jelly was supposed to work a shift that night. She’s been working here since a month after Junebug was born. She had to give up her job at the school to take care of the baby, but Betty took Junebug most nights so Jelly could work the night shift here. It made for a long day, but it all worked out. That night Jelly canceled last minute, said she was sick.”

Jughead’s shocked. He hadn’t expected this. What Betty said before had made it clear that money was tight, so it’s not the fact Jelly was working at Pop’s that surprised him, but the fact that she’d canceled at the last minute and lied about it.

Jelly had always been the kind of honest that could be confused with rude. If she didn’t want to go to a party she’d tell you why, not pretend to be busy. 

“What kind of sick?” Jughead asks.

Pop shrugs “She didn’t say, I didn’t ask. But it wasn’t like her. She’d never canceled last minute like that before. Now I wished I’d pressed her more. Maybe she would have come here and been safe. Does anyone know where she was driving?”

“No.” Jughead had asked Pea, but maybe he needed to ask Betty. “Thank you, Pop. You were always good to her, to both of us.”

Pop smiles. “As soon as Junebug’s eating solids I’ll do good by her as well.” Jughead tries not to think about the fact that by the time the Bug was eating solid food, she would likely be living with him in Chicago and her diner food would be sub-par. 

Instead Jughead smiles and waves as he exits. He doesn’t look to see Jelly’s memorial again. He drives home, his head full of questions about the situation. 

Betty’s feeding the baby with a warmed bottle by the time Jughead gets back. Junebug looks a little annoyed, but seems to be eating.

Dinner is silent for the most part. They’re both tired and the bug’s a little fussy. Jughead gets the impression that she’d rather eat hamburgers than formula, but still they persist. Betty plays with the baby a little on the floor, she calls it tummy time as if that should mean something.

Jughead has a shower and when he comes back out, Betty’s sweeping the kitchen. 

“Hey, I have a weird question for you,” he says, remembering it suddenly. “Where was Jelly going the night she died?”

Betty doesn’t look entirely surprised by the question. “She told me she was going to the Whyte Wyrm.”

“What?” Jughead asks. That doesn’t make any sense to him. The Wyrm was in the wrong direction for her to drive by Pop’s. 

“I know.” Betty bites her lower lip “But she was sick. She had a cold all day, maybe she just wasn’t thinking clearly.” 

It bothers Jughead when he falls asleep, but the next day they’re too busy for him to think about anything. 

They spend a couple hours making sure the catering will actually work and getting a guest book, and all the other strange minutia involved with funerals. Junebugs a little fussier, which takes time too. Betty speculates that the baby’s coming down with a cold.

That night he falls asleep crying and he wakes to Junebug crying. It sounds too close to be coming from Betty’s room. Jughead forces himself out of bed and he pulls a pair of dirty jeans over his boxers.

By that time the crying has stopped and he wonders if he should stay in the room. Still his pants are on now, and he feels more or less awake. Besides if he can take Junebug from Betty so Betty can get a little more sleep, it would be the right thing to do. 

Jughead has definitely let Betty take the lead on the baby, but he knows he’ll have to do more if he’s supposed to be her guardian. 

He opens the door and steps out into the living room. At first he doesn’t see anyone and then he hears a man’s voice singing quietly, “skidamarink dink dink, skinakrinki do, I love you.”

It should terrify him, after all he was the only man in the house when they went to bed at night, but the song the man’s singing undercuts that fear in a surprising way.

As Jughead’s eyes adjust to the light he sees the bulk of Sweet Pea, still in his jacket, shuffling around the room in a little dance. When Sweet Pea turns Jughead sees Junebug in his arms, and Sweet Pea sees Jughead, a surprised expression crosses his face for a second. 

“What are you doing here?” Jughead asks, this certainly doesn’t look like a kidnapping.

Sweet Pea whispers back, “I help Betty out sometimes. Junebug often doesn’t sleep between 1 and 2 without being held, and I’m awake anyways, so she’ll text me when she starts to stir and I’ll come over. It happens a couple times a week.” 

“Oh.” Jughead’s surprised. But now he notices how tenderly the man holds his child, and how Sweet Pea spoke kindly about Betty, even though he’s sure Sweet Pea knows Betty doesn’t like him much. 

“I know it’s not enough,” Sweet Pea says with a shrug.

Jughead shakes his head. “I’m sure it helps.”

He goes back into his bedroom, but it takes a while for him to go back to sleep. 

The next day is the funeral. Betty is polished looking in a black dress and heels. She even found a black onsie for the baby. 

Jughead feels strange sitting in the front row of the chapel. He’s sure if someone didn’t know better they’d mistake the three of them for a family. 

The small chapel filled more than Jughead suspected it would. Over 75 people showed up, certainly more than would ever attend Jughead’s funeral. About half of them Betty said worked at the school. Even though Jelly no longer worked there she was clearly well loved. The other half were dressed in black leather, and even though their jackets were unadorned, Jughead knew they were Serpents or associated with them. 

He knows that things are settled between them and him now, but that doesn’t mean he feels comfortable around them. When he first moved to Chicago and was living with Mary, he couldn’t pass anyone wearing a leather jacket.

It was clear that even after what happened to Jughead, Jelly’s association with them seemed to extend past Sweet Pea.

“There are a lot of Serpents here,” Jughead whispers to Betty. 

For a second her lips press together and it seems like she’s going to say something scathing about them, but instead she just says, “Jelly liked some of the younger Serpents. She hung out at the Whyte Wyrm a lot, even took me sometimes.”

Jughead remembers that Jellybean was headed there the night she died. “It doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“It isn’t,” Betty says. “But I didn’t like Jelly going alone, and a few Serpents and I became friends. Besides it’s a small town, there’s only one other bar, and it’s really more of a restaurant.”

The minister rings a bell and everyone behind them scrambles for a seat.

Jughead had insisted on a secular service yet the minister begins with a prayer, and then says a few words about Jelly’s life and death. What he says isn’t very personal or engaging, mostly it’s filled with obvious sentimentality that hurt the writer in Jughead.

When Jughead goes up to speak, his eyes fill with tears. He’s not sure he’s even coherent, but everyone in the chapel is crying to by then, so it works. 

Betty’s the last speaker. Junebug is wiggling in her arms as she says, “I met Jellybean on the first day I moved to Riverdale. I was so nervous about living and teaching in a small town I knew nothing about, and everyone I talked to on my first day seemed to be in a bad mood until I ran into Jellybean. The first thing she ever said was, ‘thank God, you’re not from around here.’”

Betty pauses because people are laughing. Jughead is too, somehow. That line of Jelly’s seems to bring her back to life for a moment. Junebug is quiet but alert in Betty’s arms.

“She became my best friend so quickly and so thoroughly it was often hard for me to remember a time when she wasn’t in my life.” Betty says and that’s when Sweet Pea snatches the microphone from the stand in front of her. 

A shocked expression crosses Betty’s face but it’s too late for her to do anything as Sweet Pea is already speaking into the microphone. “Jelly was my baby mama. She loved me so much she would do anything for me, and I do mean anything.”

Jughead doesn’t know what to do. Sweet Pea’s clearly drunk, he can’t even stand straight. Jughead’s about to go up there and take the microphone away from him, when a very short pink haired girl in a leather jacket, grabs the mic from Pea and says, “That’s all folks.”

Pea swears at the girl, but she somehow manages to get a grip on his ear and drags him from the stage snarling at him. 

At the reception in the next room Jughead takes two shots of bourbon just to flush what Sweet Pea said about his sister out of his head. 

Jughead talks for a while to Jelly’s co-workers, who all say nice things that could be about anyone, really. Even the kindest words in the world would have a hard time reaching him right now. 

“It’s a good thing Junebug isn’t at the stranger danger stage yet,” Betty whispers to him after one of Betty’s colleagues pinches Junebug’s cheeks. Jughead adds it to his never ending list of things he should Google about babies. 

Jughead finds that he’s starving and even though the food is mediocre at best, he consumes it rapidly. It makes it easier to nod and smile, with a closed mouth. 

Everyone gets both teary eyed and happy to see Junebug, and Betty’s expression is tight. Jughead doesn’t know her very well, but he knows her well enough to know this is hard, to hold the baby that’s reminding everyone of who they lost and interact with everyone as if it’s fine.

Jughead’s mouth is full of lasagna when Sweet Pea walks over and says, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. She was the love of my life.” 

Jughead feels anger course through him. If that’s true, Sweet Pea should have been on the birth certificate and in the house helping with the baby. If it’s false it’s a whole different can of worms.

Jughead knows he can’t say that though. Junebug’s existence makes it impossible for him to sever ties with Sweet Pea even if he’s a stranger to Jughead. He forces himself to say, “It’s so hard.” 

Somewhat uncomfortably the other man wraps him in a hug. 

Jughead is exhausted by the time they head home, and Betty seems weary behind the wheel. The baby is crying in the back seat and Betty gets him to move back there and play peek-a-boo with her, which seems to work, but only during the “boo” part. 

Archie calls Jughead that night and says he wishes he’d been there, but Jughead’s glad that he wasn’t. It wouldn’t have helped. Seeing all those people gawk at Junebug with tears in their eyes would be just as gutting with Archie by his side, as it was now with Betty there. 

They eat leftovers they brought home and Jughead collapses on the sofa in front of the TV. He can’t sleep, but he can’t do much else either. Betty hands him Junebug and he rocks her gently in his arms till she falls asleep. 

When she’s sleeping on him like this, everything seems easy and cozy and perfect  
Jughead has learned over the last few days that a lot of work goes into keeping Junebug happy and he doesn’t do even a quarter of it.

Like she always has a clean diaper but Jughead’s never the one to change it. He’s fed Junebug now, but Betty prepared the bottle first. The bottle was warm and Jughead wasn’t sure how Betty made it that way. 

When Betty sits down on the slightly ragged orange chair across from him, already ready for bed and wearing a robe, he clears his throat and says, “If I do get custody, I’ll want you to visit me and the bug in Chicago as much as possible. I’ll even pay to help fly you down.”

Betty smiles softly, “No need to pay, but I’d love that. She means so much to me.”

“I get that,” Jughead says. “You’ve got her this far. She’s probably alive because of you. You were here for her long before I was.” He wants Betty to know that someone hasn’t taken her for granted. He has a feeling that Jelly did a little, even if she didn’t mean to.

“Thanks,” Betty says, taking Junebug from him to put her down for the night. 

The next morning, they drive to the lawyer over in Greendale together. Sweet Pea meets them outside the office with a scowl. They all enter together. 

The lawyer, a Mr. John Steel, has salt and pepper hair and a nice smile. His office is well decorated and seems more like the set of a movie than something real. 

There aren't enough chairs for all of them, so Sweet Pea stands. Mr. Steel seems most interested in Junebug, he coos at her, which she doesn’t like much, and strokes her cheek. 

Mr. Steel asks them all what names they want to be called, because he said Jelly warned him “that real names are sensitive” (Jughead is sure his sister included the word shit, but Mr. Steel does not), so he says that he can replace them with their chosen names, at least in terms of conveying what the will is. They all agree, and for the first time Jughead realizes that Betty is in fact a nickname.

Then Mr. Steel brings out the will to read from it. Jughead’s nervous. He drank what probably amounts to too much coffee this morning and he feels on edge. In all likelihood he will be heading back to Chicago with Junebug, but he hasn’t actually allowed himself to fully believe that fact yet.

He hasn’t even warned Archie about that on the phone. Although he really should be calling Mary, asking for her help and advice, not as a lawyer but as a parent. Fred’s too. 

Jughead is thinking about how his life may change, as Mr. Steel rambles on about legal language and what the will actually means, what it covers and what it doesn’t. Jughead surreptitiously googles diapers and has a bit of sticker shock. Certainly something one was meant to throw away shouldn’t cost that much. 

Then Mr. Steel turns and says, “Sweet Pea, you were due to inherit the car.”

“Fuck,” Sweet Pea says, his eyes watery. Jughead can tell he’s not mad about not inheriting the car, but about the fact that he was set to have the thing that killed Jelly. 

“Junebug will inherit the house, but it is in Betty’s care till Junebug comes of age.”

Betty looks bewildered. “What? I can’t afford that kind of mortgage.”

Mr. Steel looks confused. “There’s no mortgage on the house. It was paid for outright about six months ago.”

Betty looks confused by that information and Jughead feels confused by it. Why would Jelly tell Betty she was struggling for money, but actually have the funds to buy out the house?

“How?”

Mr. Steel looked unperturbed. He just shrugs. “I don’t know how. It’s not like she had much savings outside of that.” Mr. Steel sounded eager to move on, but Jughead couldn’t help but feel intrigued. He felt like he was in one of the mystery books he devoured as a teen. Some things just weren’t adding up, at least not in the right way. 

“Custody of Junebug goes jointly to Betty and Jughead.”

“That can’t be right!” Jughead says. 

“Yes.” Betty seconds. “I live here and Jughead lives in Chicago. We met five days ago, we’re not in any position to raise a child together.”

Mr. Steel doesn’t seem to care. “It was what Jelly wanted. She was very specific in her instructions that Junebug have both Jughead and Betty listed as her legal guardians.”

At this point there’s not anything they can do about it but look at each other with confusion. Jughead wonders what the odds are he can talk her into moving to Chicago. They must be hiring teachers there. The odds are against the move though. Betty has a job here, and now the house. 

Jughead becomes too busy signing papers to focus on the logistics. When he looks up from signing one of the documents, Betty seems so nervous that Jughead reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. She offers him a weak smile in return. 

Fifteen minutes later, after papers are signed and details are given out, Jughead and Betty are in the car, Junebug is wiggling in her car seat, but she falls asleep as soon as Betty starts driving.

Jughead feels numb and uncomfortable. He likes what he’s seen of Betty, and she certainly loves Junebug, but the idea of now being tied to her for the next 18 plus years is overwhelming. 

He can tell by the way Betty grips the steering wheel that she feels the same way. 

That evening Jughead hears Betty crying in her room, but he can’t think of anything he can do about it, so he doesn’t. They both talk around the subject, but obviously Betty can’t leave at the start of the school year when she’s locked into a contract. Jughead’s construction job is much more flexible.He’s sure he could find something here. 

But Archie and Veronica, his only real friends are in Chicago, as is his publisher. 

Besides most of the memories he has of Riverdale aren’t good ones. Even if the Serpent’s say that what happened in the past stays there, he remembers it clearly. He remembers how they destroyed his whole life so efficiently all those years ago. They are the reason he’d grown less close to Jelly, they are the reason he’d severed all ties with FP. Jughead knew that they were capable of running him out of town again.

When Jughead flops into Jelly’s bed at ten, he looks at the room around him through different eyes. If he’s going to stay here more long term he’ll have to clean it up, get rid of the boa’s and high heel doc martins. Most of the posters can stay, though. 

Jughead stands back up. He’s been sleeping in Jelly’s room for a few days now, but he hasn’t really had a chance to look around. He’s been too busy, but he should, his sister’s gone and everything she left behind is here.

Jughead walks over to the wall with all the photos taped to it. There’s lots of Betty and Jelly at the beach or at bars. There’s a few of Sweet Pea including one where both of them are on his bike. 

After looking through the photos, Jughead shuffles through Jelly’s bookshelf. She’s never been the reader he was, but she still has some good books there. Most are escapist science fiction and fantasy, a few romance novels. Jughead can’t help but wonder what’s on Betty’s shelf. 

Near the top of the bookshelf there’s a row of black dollar store notebooks. Jughead pulls one out and opens it.

He’s not sure if he should feel guilty or joyous, but it’s abundantly clear that he’s found Jelly’s journals. He keeps pulling the notebooks out till it’s clear there are about twelve of them that are written in. 

If Jelly was alive he would never read them, but now that she’s gone, he feels like he has to. He wants to feel close to her, to get to know the version of Jelly who lived here before she passed. 

It takes him a while to decide if he should start from the beginning or from the end, but he ends up starting with the most recent journal. 

Jelly must have started it right after she gave birth to Junebug because it’s full of more details about the delivery than Jughead ever needed to know. He tries to skim mentions of bleeding and the pelvic floor, but he still learns more than he should. 

The writing is engaging and funny. Even though Jelly’s just writing for herself, the moments she’s choosing to put down on paper are largely good ones. There’s a few mentions of Sweet Pea and fights, but mostly it’s about the good things that happen to her. The time Sweet Pea surprises her with a pram for the baby, and the time she and Betty and Junebug go to the beach. 

Then near the end the entries get shorter, more cryptic. It feels strange to Jughead. He doesn’t know why there’s a sudden shift in tone and style, but there is. Then on one page written in pencil with a wavering hand, there’s one sentence that says, “Who is trying to kill me?”, 

Jughead turns the page, but the next one’s blank and the one after that. Jughead feels like throwing up. This was yet another sign that made it clear that the car crash wasn’t an accident.

Jellybean may have never been able to answer the question that was written on the last page of her journal, but Jughead sure as hell will.

TBC


	2. A New Life,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off a huge thanks to KittiLee for being the best in every possible way (beta, friend, artist)! Any mistakes I probably added after she looked at it, so sorry about that!
> 
> Secondly, I'm exhausted and happy and on vacation. So I'm breaking my regularly scheduled plan of posting on Wednesday, but hopefully you can forgive me. I figure it's close enough. I'll probably be too busy tommorow to post. 
> 
> Thirdly, thank you so much for the wonderful supportive responses to the first chapter! This story contains a surprising amount of my heart.

On Sunday night, right before he goes to bed, Jughead makes the call he’s been dreading since they met with the lawyer two days ago. 

“Jug.” Archie answers the phone, his voice sounds distracted. There’s noise in the background, maybe a TV or Veronica talking to someone.

“Are you busy?” Jughead asks.

“Veronica just invited a few people over. All girls. I was outvoted on what to watch and everything. They even forced me to order sushi for dinner. What’s up?”

Jughead understands Archie’s situation exactly, because Jughead’s spent a lot of time at Veronica’s place and met most of her friends. He can picture the TV blasting How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and the Japanese take out lined up on the counter.

Usually he and Archie would whine about the situation together for a few minutes and then slip away to the bedroom and play video games for hours. That life seems unimaginable now.

“I quit,” Jughead says. It’s funny because ever since Jughead started working construction at eighteen he’s been dreaming of saying those words, but not in this context. He thought he’d be quitting someday to write full time, not to move to a town he left behind a long time ago to take care of a baby he met a week ago, with a stranger. 

“What? Why? If you need another week off, I can give you another week off.” Archie hasn’t always been Jughead’s boss. Jughead started working for Nelson Construction before Archie even moved to Chicag0. When Archie became one of their foremen within a year of being hired whereas Jughead was happy to follow orders, hammer nails into walls, and write in his head. 

Still, it helped Jughead that his best friend was technically his boss, even though Archie tried not to show favoritism, that wasn’t how it worked practically speaking. Jughead had longer lunch breaks and time off when he needed to meet with his agent. 

“No Arch, that’s not it. We spoke with the lawyer and in Jellybean’s will, she gave Betty and I shared custody of Junebug.” 

“Who’s Betty?” Archie practically shouts into the phone. It takes a lot for Archie to switch from laid back to upset, but apparently this did it.

“Jelly’s best friend,” Jughead says. “I think I’ve mentioned her before to you and Jelly certainly has.” 

“Yeah, maybe. But she’s not even family.”

Jughead’s surprised. It’s not as if blood alone means anything. Archie’s Jughead’s family, and they’ve both known that for a long time now. But Arche sometimes struggles with seeing from other peoples perspective.  
“She’s who Jelly chose.” Jughead would like to leave it at that but it doesn’t seem fair to Betty, it dismisses all that she has done. Betty’s been helping raise Junebug since day one. She understands her way more than I do.”

“How hard could a baby be to understand?” 

Jughead laughs. “It’s not like the egg babies in health class, Arch. Real babies are a lot of work. It’s also not like I’m never going to move back. Betty and I’ve talked a lot about it. She’s a teacher and her contract is up in the spring. She can apply to schools in Chicago, it would just be about waiting out this year.”

“Shit.” Archie says on the other end of the line. “I just…. Well I mean can’t you come home now, leave the baby with Betty? Like just for the rest of the school year?” 

Surprisingly, this was something that Betty had brought up yesterday, but she seemed relieved when he said no. He meant it too. He can’t judge Sweet Pea for abandoning Jelly and then turn around and do the same thing to Betty. 

He wants to raise Junebug,he owes Jelly that. He knows raising a child involves being there through the mundane parts of childhood, like packing lunches and helping with homework, not dropping in for the holidays. In any case, he can’t solve Jelly’s murder from Chicago. 

Although part of his mind wonders if she actually was murdered. Maybe she just smoked too much pot one night, got paranoid and wrote that. Maybe someone was trying to kill her, but the accident happened first. Still, he needs to rule out every what if, every possibility. 

Betty works days, and so Jughead’s plan is to save on childcare and stay home with the Bug. Cost of living is cheap enough in Riverdale that it shouldn’t be an issue. While she’s at work he should have plenty of time to investigate. Maybe even start on his next book

It's hard for him to imagine his life here, after so many years of being away, but he thinks it will involve Pop’s. Maybe dropping by the story hour at the library with Junebug like he used to with Jelly. He can make it work for a year. After a year in the same house he and Betty should know if they’re up to sharing an apartment or if they’ll have to rent two.

“Arch, just trust me. There are important things I need to here. Junebug needs me. I can’t come home yet. 

“Fine. I’ll sort it out at work somehow. I don’t know what I’ll do without you, but we’ll visit.” 

Jughead almost laughs into the phone. Since Fred moved to Chicago Archie hasn’t been back to Riverdale once. Why would he return now? They talk for another fifteen minutes, although Jughead can tell that Archie wants to get off the phone and tell Veronica everything. 

After Jughead hangs up, he stares at the ceiling for a while and tries to fall asleep. His phone pings, and he opens a text to see that Veronica has already booked Archie and herself tickets for Christmas. Jughead hopes that will be ok with Betty, it is her house after all, but it’s too late to check. 

The next morning, he wakes to Betty knocking on his door. He opens to see her dressed in a gray dress, her hair up in a bun. 

She thrusts a baby blue plastic device that looks like a walkie talkie against his chest and says “Junebug’s asleep.”

“What’s this for?” Jughead asks, only now realizing he’s still in his boxers and a t-shirt. Not that Betty seems to notice, her eyes more focused on the door than him.

“It’s a baby monitor. The other end is in with the Bug.” Betty says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Back when Jughead looked after Jellybean there was no need for such a thing. If Jelly cried in the trailer, the whole park heard it.

“Ok,” Jughead says. In Chicago he had to be up all the time this early for work, but he hasn’t needed to here, and he’s quickly gotten out of the habit.

“I’ll be back in time to make dinner,” Betty says, and with that she heads towards the door.

“Bye.” It feels strangely domestic to say goodbye to anyone that early in the morning. Betty glances back and waves, before closing the door behind her. 

Jughead wakes up an hour later to a crying Junebug. He prepares her formula exactly as Betty’s taught him to. The whole time he’s making it he hears the ghost of her instructions in his ear.

Only after Junebug is done eating does Jughead remember to start brewing his coffee. Junebug’s cooing in the bouncer as he pours himself a mug, slathers some peanut butter on bread and eats that. It’s tricky to make anything more complicated while keeping Junebug bouncing. 

Most of the weekend was spent preparing Jughead for today. Betty re-taught him how to change a diaper, as well as walked him through taking Junebugs temperature, and how to use the stroller. Still Jughead wasn’t sure how well he did any of these things. He mostly felt like he was fumbling through them.

After they’ve both eaten, Jughead tries for some “tummy time” which is a complete disaster, Junebug wails louder than he thought possible. So he picks her up, and cradles her in his arms, while shuffling his feet across the floor in an odd half dance. He’s never done this, but he’s seen Betty do it. 

This calms the bug down after a few minutes of ear piercing screams but she doesn’t fall asleep, instead her hands tug at his shirt, in a way he finds frustrating but can’t seem to stop. He wanders around the house with her this way and whenever she starts to fuss, he moves rooms.

It never seemed this hard when he watched Betty take care of the Bug. He remembers this time with Jelly a little, but he doesn’t remember her fussing for so long. Back then music often helped so he looks up The National on his phone. Junebug quiets a little, but not much.

At some point he notices the way Junebug’s diaper squishes beneath the palm of his hand and he lays her down to change it in the nursery, across from Betty’s room. 

The diaper she was wearing is heavy and full. He wipes as Betty instructed and puts the new diaper on. Junebug smiles up at him, his whole heart glows. It feels like he wrote the perfect paragraph. 

Because she seems much calmer now, he tries to set her down on the floor so he can go through Jelly’s journals for research purposes, but she fusses the whole time and he just ends up grabbing a journal from at random. It ends up being from high school. 

An hour later he’s trapped between a sleeping Junebug who is resting on something Betty referred to as a nursing pillow, reading all about Jelly’s crush on Archie. A subject he never wants to think about again, but it’s either read this or stare at the ceiling. Jughead’s cell phone rather maddingly is in the kitchen and he’s in the living room. 

Jughead wakes up, having never realized he fell asleep, to a screaming Bug. He changes and feeds her before discovering that it’s somehow already 2:00 in the afternoon, which is good because that means Betty will be home soon, and it is also bad because he hasn’t managed to figure anything out about Jelly’s life that might help him figure out who killed her (or who wanted to). 

Jughead throws together a sandwich and eats it standing as Junebug wriggles in his arms trying to steal parts of it from him. He hopes that every day won’t be like this one. He’s never felt so desperate to get out of the house.

His body, used to years of working construction, aches with the need to be used. Jelly had a running stroller, although he suspects it was actually used for that activity by Betty only, so Jughead straps the Bug in and goes for a run.

Even though he has the muscles for running and they are so grateful to be used, his lungs are far from accustomed to running. Less than a mile from the house, he stops and sits on the curb, trying to force his lungs to burn less. 

The Bug is solidly asleep by then, so he’s glad for that. He walks home, pushes the stroller inside. He leaves Junebug in the stroller, locks the door, and then goes to his room. 

He’s watched enough, (Veronica would say too much), true crime to know that he needs a murder board. He also knows that he doesn’t want Betty to see it, she’d probably think he’s crazy for investigating something the police have deemed an accident. 

Jughead was glad that she wasn’t a possible suspect as she was with Junebug at the time. Although Junebug couldn’t provide a verbal alibi of course, it’s not like you could leave a baby alone at home.

He ends up putting the murder board on the back of the door, because even if she comes into his room, which is rare, there’s no good reason for Betty to close the door behind her.

He places the Serpents on the board first, not that they could have killed her as a collective, but because while he once knew everyone who belong to that group, he no longer did. At the funeral most everyone in black leather was a stranger. 

He doesn’t know what their motives would be, but he knows enough about them not to trust them. He knows they’ve committed murder before.

Sweet Pea’s name goes up, although Jughead’s unsure if he belongs. Jughead might not like the guy but he also doesn’t think he’s capable of killing someone he called the love of his life, even drunkenly. 

Besides, it was clear Sweet Pea expected Jelly to take care of their child so it made no sense that he would kill her, from a logistical standpoint. 

Jughead doesn’t have much to go on and all his suspects are in the same group, at least for now, which means unfortunately he’ll have to go to the Whyte Wyrm at some point. Even the thought of that leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Jughead tapes a piece of paper with the words “Why was Jelly friends with the Serpents?” to the very middle of the board. It’s that question that feels like it’s at the core of everything he’s missing, everything he’s failing to understand.

It’s not even enough data to qualify as a murder board, but at least it’s more than the sheriff has. When Jughead called him to ask for details, Sheriff Minneta dismissed him out of hand. 

After, Jughead settles on the bed and re-reads Jellybean’s last journal.

Most of the information in it is about the Bug and Betty. What the Bug is doing now is mentioned (apparently she rolled over for the first time the day before Jelly died), and what she and Betty are doing for fun (watching movies primarily). 

Sweet Pea is mentioned often in the context of fighting or going out. There are no details about their love life and for that Jughead is thankful.

Jelly also writes a lot about work. She really likes the vice principal, Kevin Keller, but she hates how the gym teacher Moose Mason (who Jughead vaguely remembers) aggressively hits on her. Jughead adds him to the murder board because at least it’s a hint at a lead.

There’s also a number of notes in the journal, just random words that don’t seem to connect with the rest of the entry, jammed into the margins. One says Toni?, another says Revolutionary B.O.B., A third says Calvary Cemetery. Jughead doesn’t know what to make of these, but he writes them all down.

Jughead’s deep in his own thoughts when there’s a knock on his door. Jughead gets up and opens it, so the back of the door is pressed up against the wall. Betty’s on the other side, a bag of groceries in her hand. It feels so strange for Jughead’s secret to be on the far side of the door. So close to where they both are standing.

“How was your day with Junebug? Was it all stroller naps?” Betty asks. 

“Hardly, this was the first real break.”

Betty nods, unsurprised “That sounds about right. I’m making dinner. Does chicken stir fry sound good?”

Jughead thinks it sounds too healthy to be good, but he nods. Betty leaves to start dinner and Jughead finishes re-reading the diary before joining Betty in the kitchen. Junebug is awake and in some sort of baby front pack. Betty’s chopping carrots but the knife is nowhere near Junebug. 

“I can take her.” Jughead offers.

“That would be great.” Betty says, putting down the knife. She unbuckles something and then hands him the Bug. “I’ve got formula all warmed up on the table for her.”

Jughead rests her in his lap while he feeds her from the bottle. She makes soft gurgling sounds.

“How was work?” Jughead asks.

“Fine. Have you been back to Riverdale High since you graduated?” Betty asks.

“I never graduated. I finished classes in Chicago. I haven't even been back to Riverdale till now.” 

“Oh,” Betty says. “According to Jelly the school hasn’t changed at all in the last decade except for the students, and mine have been particularly tough this year so far, though it’s early.”

“I bet.” Jughead had always been a good student outside of sleeping and eating in class, but he can remember a lot of students, like Jason Blossom and Reggie Mantle heckling teachers back then. Particularly any that could be categorized as pretty and young. 

Betty throws the carrots into a pan with oil and it briefly sizzles. 

“It’s strange coming home to you and not Jelly.”

“I bet,” Jughead says. “It’s weird being in charge of a fussy little person all day. I feel unqualified. Jelly used to be so much easier, but I think it’s because she was eating solids by then.” Jughead gets the impression that Junebug does not think highly of formula.

“You won’t be for long. Every parent starts out as an amateur.”

Jughead can’t help but be shocked by that statement. After all he’s not a parent, right? Technically he’s a legal guardian. 

Betty must notice how he reacts and she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re right. It just scares me. My parents failed so completely with me. I think the word is just very off putting.” 

“I understand,” Betty says, and Jughead realizes that she must know at least a few of his parents dark secrets, at least his dad’s. Jughead’s been estranged from FP for a decade but he still knows he’s currently rotting in jail. “I mean my parents and I haven’t talked for five years.”

Jughead’s a little surprised. Betty had alluded to unhappiness with them earlier, but Betty’s so polite that it’s hard for him to imagine her writing anyone off. 

“Why?” He knows he shouldn’t ask, but Jughead knows they’re going to be spending a lot of time together. 

Betty chops a red pepper before answering him. “In New York, my best friend growing up was Cody, he was the ideal boy next door in so many ways. He became my first, my only boyfriend. My parents loved him. My mom particularly.” She pauses to focus on chopping a zucchini. Jughead was not a fan of the many vegetables going into this dish.

“My family was always complicated. My dad was a successful banker, my mom was a housewife with a staff to help her out. But they always had expectations for me and my sister. For us to be compliant, and polite, perfect future wives, not people. If we did anything they didn’t approve of the consequences could be extreme.” 

Betty pauses there and Jughead wonders what she means by extreme. He wonders if she’s going to tell him, but she does not. Instead she says “Polly and I could have helped each other out more, but that’s just not who Polly was. If there was a way to get herself out of trouble by putting me in it, she would take it.”

Jughead wonders where this story is going, the pieces aren’t adding up for him yet. Betty throws the new vegetables in the pan and says “At first I confided my problems with my parents to Cody but over time he stopped listening, and by the time we were in college he made it very clear that he was on my parents side. I should have seen that as a warning sign. He always liked the attention my mother gave him, he liked the fact that my father hired him for an excellent position at work.”

Betty adds a ton of ginger to the pan and some soy sauce. Junebug bats at the mostly empty bottle.

“I should say that I was never sure where love began with him, and obligation ended, but we’d been together for a decade, and that counts for something, a lot, even.”

Jughead laughs. “Two weeks was the length of my longest relationship.” He wants her to feel comfortable to feel heard, but he knows that the twist in the story is looming.

“Polly started working with my dad and Cody, and I didn’t even notice how things shifted at first, but they did. I came home from teaching one afternoon to Cody and Polly on my sofa, doing….” Betty doesn’t finish the sentence, she doesn’t have to. “Anyways I told my mother and she said and I quote “Elizabeth, as long as Cody ends up as part of the family, I don’t care.”

“Shit.” Jughead says. “That’s fucked up.” Then realizing he’s sworn in front of the baby he starts to stammer an apology.

A spark has re-entered Betty’s eyes as she smiles and says “In another six months we will have to worry more about swearing in front of her. Besides, my story has a happy ending. I figured out how messed up my family was, I left it behind and met your sister, who never failed to support me.”

“I’m glad.” Jughead says, and he really means it. He’s so glad Betty had Jelly, and Jelly had her.

The doorbell rings and Jughead goes to answer it. Sweet Peas there. He’s not wearing his Serpents jacket, just a flannel.

“Don’t you have keys?” Jughead asks, not even bothering with hello.

“I don’t like to use them if people are up. They are just for nighttime emergencies,” Sweet Pea says heading for the kitchen and scooping the Bug out of the highchair and into his arms. He looks down at Junebug and whispers “I love you.” 

Jughead wonders if the way Sweet Pea swoops in and out of her life will make growing up easier or harder for Junebug, but it might not matter when they move to Chicago. The steep price of plane tickets will definitely cut down on the swooping.

“Do you want stir-fry?” Betty asks. “It’s almost ready?” The way Betty asks, an extra plate already in her hand, implies that she knows his answer already, that this is something that has happened before.

“Sounds good,” Sweet Pea says.

They sit down to eat, and Junebug lets them eat in silence for all of two minutes. Betty picks her up then and starts dancing around the room. Jughead’s not enjoyed the stir fry very much, but that’s hardly a surprise. He can’t recall the last time he’s eaten this many vegetables. 

While Betty’s distracted with the baby, Sweet Pea gets up, goes to the fridge and pulls out hot sauce with an aardvark on the bottle. He squeezes a healthy amount on his stir fry before handing it to Jughead with the words, “This helps.”

Jughead is surprised by how much it helps after he takes a bite and he squeezes a little more on. “Thanks.”

Sweet Pea shrugs, “How’s it going?”

Jughead doesn’t know if he’s referring to the loss of his sister, the guardianship of Junebug, or the sudden housemate status with Betty, but he says “It’s going.” and Sweet Pea nods as if that answer tells him enough. 

Sweet Pea leaves after reading Junebug a story, so that Betty can finally eat. Jughead falls asleep not long after that, somehow worn out by the baby. 

The rest of the week is some twilight zone version of this. Each day is a little different. On Tuesday Junebug refuses to sleep till Betty comes home and puts her in the baby front pack (or as Betty calls it the “ergo baby”). 

On Wednesday, Tina who Jughead vaguely remembers from high school, comes by with her one year old for a play date. It involves both babies staring at each other. But Jughead’s surprised at how grateful he is to be around another adult, even if it’s Tina, who spends the whole time talking about milestones and learning leaps. 

On Thursday Jughead attempts a run again and goes slightly farther.

Jughead’s never been so worn out from doing what seems like nothing much on paper. He’s bored and fidgety, and tired of Betty’s healthy dinners. Every day seems like the same. Maybe if he was making more progress with the murder investigation he’d have more hope.

Right now, the best moment of his day is when Betty comes home and takes over Junebug care. He knows that’s not fair, and it can’t last forever, but it’s all he can manage right now.

On Friday, things change, although not at first. The morning involves lots of diaper changing, feeding, and rocking. Then a little after lunch Junebug begins to cry inexplicably. 

Usually her crying fits pass quickly and with little ceremony, but this time rocking and swaying didn’t cut it. Finally Jughead puts her in the baby carrier, she calms down and then a few minutes later she falls asleep. Jughead practically sighs with relief.

Then the landline rings loudly. Jughead wonders why the fuck Jelly still has a landline, but he picks it up on the first ring before it can wake the baby. 

“Hello.” He whispers into the phone quietly.

A stern voice on the other end of the line says, “You are receiving a collect call from Greendale Penitentiary, from Forsythe Jones, will you accept the call?” 

At first Jughead is confused, maybe Archie’s pranking him, but then he realizes that whoever is connecting the call is unaware that there is more than one Forsythe Jones.

Jughead rarely thinks of FP at all anymore and when he does it’s as someone firmly connected to the past. After Jughead left for Chicago they’ve only talked once on the phone and that was mostly shouting. 

When Jughead left, Jelly had been in foster care, and Jughead hadn’t realized that Jellybean had gotten back in touch with FP at some point. She must have though, because his father had this number.

“Yes.” Jughead says, gritting his teeth. He wonders if his father even knows about Jelly’s death, but he must, even inmates are informed of such things, and even after all this time Jughead’s fairly sure that FP’s Serpent connections remain strong, after all he’d chosen them over Jughead.

“Jughead?” FP says over the line, his voice sounding no different than it had years ago.

“Yes.” 

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Me too.” Jughead says, as much as he hates FP, he can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child. “I didn’t know you were talking again.”

“Yeah. Ever since she got back from Europe. I wasn’t in prison then, we met up at least once a week till two years ago.”

Jughead almost shakes his head at the mention of the Europe trip. It was six years ago now. Right after Jelly graduated high school, she had decided to take her small savings and the money Jughead loaned her (ear marked for college) and go to Greece, Italy, and France for a year. The idea was that she’d move to Chicago, live with Jug, and go to college when it was all over.

Jelly came back a different person. She didn’t talk about going to college or leaving Riverdale as she had before. Instead she applied for and took the position as the secretary at school and proceeded from there. 

They fought about it a lot, but all she would say in the end to Jughead was “My life, my decision,” which didn’t help matters. Now he’s discovering yet another way his sister changed after that trip. 

He also hadn’t realized that his Dad had been back in prison for two years, although now he remembers Fred telling him something about drugs and the sheriff. Jughead didn’t know any details.

“What did you talk about?” Jughead asks. He’s genuinely curious.

“At first it was all about Gladys. She claimed she wanted to track her down.” FP says. Jughead is surprised, but it makes a strange sort of sense. FP was around enough for Jelly to have memories of him that weren’t good, broken beer bottles and walls, but Gladys took off when Jelly was three, never to be heard from again.

Because she didn’t know or remember Gladys, Jelly had a soft spot for her, one that Jughead didn’t try and destroy. His memories of Gladys involved drugs, screaming, and the cops, but Jughead always figured it was ok to give ones little sister false hope in regards to at least one of her parents. 

Jughead had never thought that she’d actually try to look for Gladys. Jughead never had. He’d heard rumors that she went back home to her parents in Toledo, but he’d never bothered to look into that. He remembers her angry snarls across the breakfast table and the way she encouraged his childhood habit of petty thievery.

“Did she?” Jughead asks. A month ago he would have assumed that Jelly would have told him about seeing their mother. Now he lived in an entirely different world, one where she had phone dates with his father.

“No. She gave up after a year or so. Wherever your mom went Jug, she hid herself well.”

Jughead forces himself to stay silent about being referred to as Jug. That name belonged to Archie and Jelly, it was reserved for their personal use out of love. But Jughead had to stop thinking of this as a conversation with his estranged father and start thinking of it as one with a possible source of information. It’s the only real lead to the case he’s had time to find in the last week after all.

“What did you talk about after that?”

“Life, mostly. The Serpents sometimes. Sweet Pea occasionally. I introduced them actually.” FP says this as if he’s proud of the fact. 

At least Jughead’s solved one piece of the mystery of how Jelly ended up back at the Whyte Wyrm. Then FP says “Betty often. Junebug too, but she only told me about that after she gave birth.” 

Jughead can’t help but feel a little smug, he knew about that first. 

“So she didn’t visit you?”

“I asked her not to. It’s not pleasant here. I remember visiting my father in prison once and I would never do that to my kids.”

“But the phone’s better?” Jughead asks skeptically.

“Of course it is. To visit me in person involves a full body search. Besides I’m not in for too long, just a couple more months. I get out in January, and I want to meet Junebug, see you.”

Jughead hates that idea. Hopefully his investigation will be long resolved by then, but just in case it’s not he says, “Sure.” 

They talk for another few minutes and when the call is over Jughead adds Gladys’s name to the murder board even though he’s not exactly sure why. 

He doesn’t think she showed up out of nowhere and killed Jelly, but he thinks that she must be part of the larger mystery of what’s going on. He’s pretty sure the hope of finding Gladys is why Jelly started talking to FP again, and that this led her to The Serpents. 

Jughead feels energy coursing through his body, as if it’s filled with awkward emotions he doesn’t know how to get out. 

He goes for a walk down to Sweetwater River. Junebug is quiet in the front pack. The thing that’s bothering him, like a mosquito bite he shouldn’t scratch but wants to, is that Jughead feels betrayed. 

Jellybean had been keeping secrets from him, ones that if she hadn’t died, he never would have found out about. In all the years they’d spent apart Jughead had still told Jelly everything of importance, hell he’d even told her about the less important things like the time his car was towed because of Archie’s unpaid parking tickets, where as she, it turns out, had kept most of her life from him. 

Jughead’s beginning to think that whatever got her killed is part of the secret life she kept from him. 

While he’s staring at the river running over rocks, he can’t help but think that Betty knows more than he does. That she’s the source to get him further in his investigations. 

Still that night at dinner, over a surprisingly tasty lentil dish, Jughead finds himself unable to say anything to her that doesn’t involve the baby and work. He knows Betty has so much on her plate, he can’t ask her to do more, to carry this burden as well.

After dinner he shrugs on his sherpa jacket and tells her he’s going to Pop’s. He doesn’t have a car yet, so he borrows Betty’s, and then he drives to the Whyte Wyrm.

He parks outside. It looks exactly like it did a decade ago, which surprises him. He thought time would wear it down a bit more.

The last time he was here he was one challenge away from getting his Serpent jacket. He had walked through those doors with a swagger in his steps. It felt like after so many years of trying, he’d finally found a way to make his dad proud. 

When he’d left later that night, after they’d told him exactly what that last challenge was, he had tried to pretend to look calm and collected, like he was preparing to do what they’d asked him to do, but every step he took was jittery. Within an hour he’d confessed everything to Fred and the next day a tired looking Mary was picking him up from the Greyhound station.

Jughead never wanted to come back here, but Sweet Pea told him that the threat against him was lifted. That the Serpents considered any ties between them, done. Which means he should be safe to enter. 

He gets out of the car, takes a deep breath and walks to the front door of the Wyrm. When he opens it, the noise of cheering and talking overwhelms him and the smell of alcohol and grease remind him of childhood.

Inside the Wyrm has changed. The booths have been reupholstered, the floor re-done, even the bar looks new. The Serpents must have more money now. 

It’s also a lot more crowded than it once was. Jughead understands more why Betty came here from time to time. The people here are not all Serpents. A lot actually look like northsiders. He spots Reggie drinking at the bar, and Midge ensconced with a group at a booth. 

The room doesn’t go silent when Jughead enters but the Serpents do. Their noisy ongoing conversation grounds to a halt, halving the conversation level in the room. The non-Serpents don’t seem to notice as Jughead walks up to the bar and orders scotch. 

The pink haired Serpent behind the bar just nods and pours, never speaking to him. She’s the same one who cut off Sweet Pea’s speech at the memorial, and Jughead probably should thank her for that, but he can’t bring himself too.

Jughead consumes the drink slowly, biding his time. He can’t see Sweet Pea. The Serpents he does see, are talking to each other amongst themselves again. Jughead recognizes a few from the old days. Tall Boy, Penny, Fangs, he can name, the others just look vaguely familiar. 

He’s realized his mistake in coming here. If he’s going to learn anything, it’s not here. None of these people trust him. There’s no way he can blend into the background. 

Sweet Pea might have said that the Serpents have forgiven him, but the glares Penny is sending Jughead’s way tell a different story. The way Tallboy keeps tapping his boot makes the hair on the back of his neck raise.

Jughead’s about to give up and go when Betty enters. Her hair is down and she’s wearing a faded jean jacket with motorcycle boots. It’s the same Betty he sees every day, but still it feels different to see her here, instead of across the dining table.

She slides onto the empty bar stool next to him.

“What are you doing here?” she says, leaning over. 

“Where’s Junebug?” Jughead asks.

“With Tina. She’s fine. Are you going to answer my question?”

Jughead can’t answer it, not here anyways. But he can give her a sort-of answer, “I just needed to get out.” 

Betty smiles softly, but the glint in her eyes suggests that she doesn’t believe him.

The pink haired Serpent places a glass of red wine in front of Betty and says, “Good to see you.”

Betty says, “Thanks Toni”

“How’s the Bug?” Toni asks, suddenly friendly. 

Betty shows a few pictures on her phone and Toni oohs appropriately. 

“We should be going,” Betty says, placing some cash on the bar.

“But you’re not finished,” Toni says and Betty’s glass is still over half full.

“I took a cab here, but I’m driving back,” Betty says with a sigh. “But come over next week for dinner?”

“Sure.” 

Jughead follows Betty out. He gets in the passenger seat this time. Betty doesn’t look at him. She starts to drive. Only now is Jughead realizing that he’s never seen Betty angry before. 

Her fingers clench the wheel and her lips press flat together. Finally at a stoplight a mile from Jelly’s house, Betty says, “I don’t know what happened between you and the Serpents, but I know it was bad.”

“It was,” Jughead says.

“Then why’d you go to the Wyrm?” 

“Sweet Pea said I was forgiven.”

Betty’s not looking at him, her eyes are focused on the road in front of them. “It hasn’t been completely. I know that much. That’s why Toni called me.”

Jughead’s not surprised Toni was the one that called Betty based on what happened. Still he feels like a small child being scolded. He wonders if he stays silent, refuses to say anything more, if she’ll just move on. They’ll wake up the next morning and not say anything about it. 

But he doesn’t want that. Betty’s in his life to stay, and he wants them to be more than civil, he admires her, is grateful for her. 

That means the only way forward is to tell her the truth or at least part of it. 

He stays silent as they pick up Junebug from Tina’s. As Betty puts Junebug down to sleep Jughead paces the living room and tries to figure out what to say and how to say it. 

TBC


	3. Verge of Everything/Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter count went up! I knew it would, but I was avoiding changing it till I mapped everything out, but now I have. I'm sorry! I do really think it will end up being this many chapters, but I can't promise anything. 
> 
> An extra big thanks to KittiLee this chapter for encouraging me to add everyone's favorite line last chapter and for catching a plot hole! She is so wonderful! 
> 
> Also a huge thanks to the response this fic has received. I'm so grateful and encouraged.

For the first time since he’s moved in, Betty goes into the cupboard, pulls out a bottle of red wine and uncorks it.

“I don’t usually drink wine,” Jughead says.” But I can make an exception.” He feels nervous and on edge, not about the wine but the situation. His foot tapping against the floor. 

She grabs two wine glasses and pours them each one. She hands Jughead his and then goes over to the sofa. He sits across from her and watches as she takes three sips. Then she looks up at him, “Talk,” she says. 

“I don’t know where to start.” Jughead’s beginning to wonder if he has to tell Betty everything. Maybe just half the truth will be enough for now.

“How about with what happened between you and the Serpents?”

Jughead’s grateful she’s focused in on that. But even that isn’t an easy thing to talk about, in fact, he hasn’t talked about it in years. He’s only ever told Jelly and the Andrews.

Jughead takes a drink of his wine. It tastes sweet and cheap. Like the stuff his mom used to drink in his memories of her. He would smell it on her breath sometimes when she put him to bed.

He wonders if Jelly drank like Gladys. He doesn’t think so, partially because Betty only seems to drink rarely. This is only the second time she’s had alcohol in his presence. At the funeral she seemed to be the only one abstaining.

Jughead takes a deep breath and says “What I am about to tell you can never leave this room.”

“I’m a good secret keeper. I have lots of practice.” 

Jughead wonders if any of those secrets might be Jelly’s, but now would not be the right time to press. 

“You know my dad lead the Southside Serpents for a long time, right?” 

Betty nods, “Jelly said he semi-retired about a decade ago.”

That’s news to Jughead, but he doesn’t say as much. He just files it away for later. 

“When I was growing up, everyone around assumed that I would join the Serpents. My dad would always make jokes about preparing me for a leadership position, the neighbor kids would always tease me about it. But I never wanted that for myself. I loved my dad, but I never really looked up to him.”

Jughead can see that Betty’s completely focused on him, the wine glass is gripped tightly in her hand, but she doesn’t seem to be drinking from it. Her eyes are focused on him. 

Jughead continues, “When I was born we were living on the Northside. When we moved to the trailer park on the Southside, I was already attending Riverdale Elementary. My mother never bothered to update our address. It might have started out as an oversight, but at some point, before high school it became deliberate.”

Betty nods, “Because of Southside High having such a low graduation rate, a lot of the students at Riverdale High attend with an incorrect address. I know of at least three in my class. Teachers don’t mind, but the administration does.”

“Exactly. In any case the administration found out about me and I was re-enrolled on the Southside. You can’t attend school there without protection, and I always had ties to the Serpents, so it felt inevitable in a way, even if I wasn’t happy about joining.”

“So you were a Serpent? Are they so mad at you because you left?”

“I’ve was never a Serpent. I started initiation. It was a little different for me than other recruits. My dad’s reign over the gang was tenuous at the time, so as a legacy, and as his son, I had to jump through more hoops not less. There were three tests and the first was easy.“

Jughead takes a deep breath, nothing he’s told her so far is terrible, but if he’s going to be honest, within a minute he’s going to have to tell her things that might make her see him in a different light.

“Go on.” Betty says. Her wine glass is on the coffee table now. 

“The first step towards being initiated was toilet papering the mayor’s car, and that was fun really. The second I didn’t want to do, but there was no way around it. A fellow recruit and I had to hold up a Southside bodega. We pulled that off with some shouting and gun waving. We didn’t cause any damage. I thought the third step might involve violence inflicted towards me. I heard rumors of something called a gauntlet.”

“Sweet Pea told me about that once,” Betty says. “It’s the final step. Everyone in the gang throws a punch and the recruit just has to get through it and still be able to stand.”

Jughead knows that Sweet Pea would be in trouble if anyone found out he’d told Betty that much. Jughead wishes that was what was waiting for him all those years ago. 

“That wasn’t what they had in store for me. They called me in separately to the Whyte Wyrm, my dad wasn’t there, but the regional head of Serpents was. At first everything they said sounded good to me. They said there would be a separate task for me to complete because they planned for me to lead the Southside Serpents one day.”

Jughead takes a big gulp of his wine. There’s no going back now. Betty’s eyes are focused on his. They’re friends. He probably would have ended up telling her this one way or another. He’d never told Veronica, but that was only because Archie had probably spilled Jughead’s secrets to her already.

“They had a name, a weapon and a fake passport for me. They wanted me to go to Canada and kill someone from a rival gang. I still remember his first name - Malachi.”

The expression on Betty’s face goes from shocked to appalled, to something he can only describe as studiously neutral.

“I couldn’t do it. Obviously. They made it clear that that was not an option and gave me a week-long window. If I couldn’t kill Malachi, someone would kill me.”

“Shit,” Betty says. 

“I phoned Jelly, she told me to go to the Andrews. I ended up living with Mary, Archie’s mom, for three years. Six months in the Serpents left a dead rat on her doorstep with a note that said, you get to live if you never come home.”

Betty takes a moment, as if she’s absorbing all the information and then she takes a deep breath and says, “I’m so glad you got out!”

“Me too. I’m sure most people don’t know what happened. I had a huge fight with my father soon after. He didn’t know what they Serpents asked me to do, but he was furious that I’d turned them down. The fact that he didn’t want to know details before siding with them, was enough for me to cut ties with him.”

“I get that,” Betty says, and he knows that she does more than almost anyone. “But I don’t get why you went to the Wyrm tonight.”

Jughead doesn’t know what to say to that. He could confess everything, or he could tell her just enough to distract her. 

It’s always been hard for him to let anyone in, even someone as generous as Betty. He likes Betty, admires her kindness and her tenderness, he’d even go as far as to say that he trusts her with most things, but he’s still reluctant to trust her with this. It goes against the way he was raised. Besides, he doesn’t want to put Junebug’s only other living guardian in danger. 

In any case there's still a small part of Jughead that thinks Jelly wasn’t murdered. Car accidents happen all the time. Wouldn’t the police be able to tell the difference between a fake and a real one?

But Jughead can tell Betty a half truth, and maybe it will be enough for her to understand what he’s going through right now. It might even be enough to get her to help him out. If he can ask her direct questions about Jelly in this context, he might be able to hear helpful answers.

“When Jelly and I talked on the phone she never talked about the Serpents. She never mentioned Sweet Pea was one of them. When I left town, I thought she cut ties with them. She wasn’t living with my father at the time. She hated them for what they did to me, or so I thought.”

Betty’s eyes go wide and her hand presses against her chest for a moment. “Oh. She’d mentioned to me that you’d had issues with them, but she’d never made it seem like a big deal. I never even knew you couldn’t come home because of them, I just knew you shouldn’t go to the Wyrm.” 

Jughead doesn’t understand this at all. It was one thing for Jelly not to discuss the inner workings of what happened with Betty, that’s what he’d expected of her after all, to keep his secret. But the idea that she’d pass it off as no big deal, even to her closest friends made no sense. 

She told him one thing and then behaved in an entirely different way. This feels like a betrayal on every level.

Betty must have an idea about what he’s thinking because she shakes her head.

“She had to have had a reason,” Betty says. “We were close, but she still kept secrets from me. Ones that never added up.”

“Like what?” Jughead asks.

“She didn’t tell me when FP went to jail, for example. Also, I have no idea how she paid off the house. It cost over 400 thousand dollars and the secretary position she had paid 60,000 a year. The numbers don’t add up. She told me she needed me to pay rent to cover the mortgage, but she charged me 900 a month. That’s enough to make payments but not to pay it off.”

Jughead wishes he could take notes without looking like a complete weirdo, Betty knows so much that he doesn’t about Jelly. 

“Anything else?”

Betty shrugs. “Lots of little things. Like everyone at the Wyrm knew she and Toni didn’t get along. They wouldn’t even say hi to each other, yet I spotted them at a Greendale coffee shop once laughing like they were good friends.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

Betty picks up her long abandoned glass of wine and takes a sip. “No. It’s different for me. I moved here and was a complete stranger to everyone. Jelly lived here her whole life and everyone was always sharing details about her with me that were none of their business. I thought maybe that’s why she kept secrets.”

Jughead nods, he gets that reasoning. Then Betty adds, “I’m the kind of person who once I’m close to someone, I tell them everything. Jelly wasn’t like that, and from the few times I met your father I got the impression he wasn’t either. I think it’s a family trait.”

It feels a little like a knife in his side, but he’s already proven it’s accurate, and she knows it. He wasn’t even going to tell her this much, except she’d applied pressure.

Part of him wants to tell her, wants to share the burden this with her, even if it goes against his natural instincts. 

“It is,” he says. There’s no point in pretending otherwise. “My mother was even that way. After she left, we couldn’t learn anything more about what happened from my dad. At first he implied she called from time to time, but I’m not even sure that was true.”

Betty leans forward, her elbows rest briefly on her knees. She’s closer than she was a moment ago, but she’s still a few feet away. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?” 

Jughead knows this is a test of sorts. She’s trying to figure out how much he’s actually telling her. But he’s not up for divulging anymore tonight. Not if he doesn’t have to. 

“I just want to know why my sister befriended the Serpents. Why she fell in love with one of them?”

Betty leans back again, but her eyes flicker with alert-ness and curiosity. “Your dad is the reason she became friends with them. I know that much. Part of their weekly tradition was dinner at the Whyte Wyrm. She met Sweet Pea right after he joined, and they hit it off. How she did that given the circumstance is something I don’t understand.”

Jughead sighs. This isn’t new or helpful information really. 

Betty picks up her glass of wine, downs it in one gulp, and then stands up. “When you decide to tell me what’s actually going on, I’ll help you if I can. Till then, I don’t know what to do. Jelly might have told me lies of omission, but you’re refusing to answer me point blank. 

Jughead doesn’t know what to say. Even though Betty’s words are angry, her tone isn’t. Her expression conveys that she’s more frustrated than anything else. 

“I don’t think you’d believe me,” Jughead says. The words taste foul in his mouth.

“Look, I know we’re in a hard situation here. We’re two people who didn’t choose each other, that are raising a child together. But I like you, we get along I think, in spite of the circumstances.”

Jughead feels briefly better about everything. Like Betty understands or at least is trying too. Then Betty says, “But if you’re not going to tell me the truth, I can’t trust you. I don’t want to raise the Bug in a situation where we don’t trust each other.” 

Without even waiting for a response she leaves the room. Jughead hears her load the wineglass into the dishwasher and press start. He thinks for a moment that he should just go into the kitchen and tell her now. But he hears her footsteps in the hall, and the door slam behind her.

He doesn’t sleep well that night. Instead he tosses and turns. He’s mad at himself for not telling Betty the truth.. He’s also mad at her for forcing the issue. It would be so much easier if she just let it slide.

The next morning, she wakes him to hand him the baby monitor and doesn’t even say hello. He hates the way that makes him feel. 

During the day he starts to put together an apology in his head. He’s still not going to tell her what he’s really up to, but he should say he’s sorry. 

Betty doesn’t come home at 5 like usual. Instead at 5:30 someone knocks on the front door, and an exhausted Jughead opens the door to reveal Sweet Pea, Serpent jacket on, a nervous look on his face.

“Toni said she ran into Betty at kickboxing class,” Sweet Pea says walking past Jughead. 

“Oh.” Jughead’s grateful that the mystery of where Betty is, is easily resolved at least.

Sweet Pea turns to Jughead. The expression on the other man’s face clearly conveys pity. “You don’t get it. Betty’s pissed. All she told Toni was that you told her you didn’t want to be friends.”

What? Jughead doesn’t understand that at all. That’s not what Jughead said. He liked Betty, he thought of her as a friend, he just didn’t want to tell her all of his secrets. After all what he did disclose to Betty last night was a big deal.

But from Betty’s perspective it probably seemed very different. She had opened up what was essentially her home and her life, to him. She freely told him facts about her own past.

She had taken on vast amounts of chores and made his introduction to baby raising far easier, and here he was refusing to meet her halfway. He had thought of it as protecting Betty by keeping her out of it, when there were far more factors at play here.

He could see now how it seemed like he didn’t want to be friends. That’s how he had behaved, selfishly, in more ways than one. He just assumed she wouldn’t let his behavior affect her.

Even last night when she walked away, he just thought she’d sleep on it, and get over it. Betty’s been so easy going, and so helpful, that somehow in the context of all that he’s forgotten that she’s a person too, and more than that, that she’s a person facing the same basic set of changed circumstances that he is. 

“Shit. Did she get this way with Jelly?” Jughead asked.

“Not really.” Sweet Pea says, and then the other man must take pity on him because he adds, “But honestly I’ve never seen anyone as in sync as those two. I got jealous sometimes.“

Jughead hates that he made a mistake, more than one if he’s being honest. He doesn’t know what to do. Jughead’s expression must convey his sheer panic, because Sweet Pea says, “Let’s go to Pop’s. Sugar and grease always help.”

In this way, Jughead will admit they’re alike. “Ok.”

Sweet Pea drives. Junebug’s a little fussy so Jughead sits in the back with her. He wonders if it’s because she misses Betty. Jughead wonders if he misses Betty. It feels strange not to be eating in the kitchen with her. 

Most of the time they spend together, they do boring things like clean and attempt to make Junebug content, but still the way they talk has always been easy. He’s felt comfortable with her since he’s met her, and he’s never been able to say that about anyone else before,

Veronica Lodge spent six months working her way into his comfort zone and Betty just walked in with Junebug like she belonged there already. Veronica would be so jealous, and Jughead makes a mental note to never tell her. 

Pop’s is busy when they arrive, but Pop takes their orders right away. While they wait for their food to come Jughead feeds Junebug her formula.

“When’s she going to start eating real food?” Sweet Pea asks.

Jughead realizes he doesn’t know, but says, “A couple months,” “because it seems right and he wants to look like he knows what he’s doing in at least a small part of his life. However, when the burger and fries arrive, Junebug seems ready to eat even though she’s still toothless. 

“Is Betty mad at you because you showed up at the Wyrm?” Sweet Pea asks. His tone implies disinterest, but the focus of his gaze tells a different story.

“Partially,” Jughead says. “It doesn’t help that I lied to her and said I was coming here.”

Sweet Pea shakes his head. “Chicago has spoiled you. You’ve forgotten small town 101.”

“Which is?” 

“There is no such thing as secrets.”

Jughead laughs. This seems to be true for other people, just not for Jelly. The more he digs the less he seems to know about her.

“Jelly had them,” Jughead says. “At least she kept some from me.”

Sweet Pea’s shoulders stiffen, “You’re right about that.”

Jughead raises a questioning eyebrow but Sweet Pea just shrugs, “She wouldn’t even tell me the whole story about you.”

“Good to know.” 

They sit in silence for a few moments and then Sweet Pea says, “Just make things work with Betty. You’re raising my kid together.”

Jughead can’t help himself, “You could always step up,” he says. 

He can feel so many emotions burble to the surface. He’s been so angry at Sweet Pea for so long. Even before he met the guy. 

Jughead’s never really been that interested in sex. He’d been curious enough to try it though, a few times, and if any of those women came back to him, even years down the line, with a child of his, he would have stepped up. 

He hadn’t had an easy childhood, and his dad was a terrible example, but he’s always taken responsibility for his actions. 

Jughead expects Sweet Pea to get angry and stomp out or yell. But instead the taller man just shakes his head and says, “I’ll keep trying.”

Even though trying in and of itself is insufficient, that sentence breaks a little bit of Jughead’s heart. As much as he wants to loathe Pea, at least he had the decency to show up on Jughead’s front door and tell him that he screwed up with Betty.

“I know I suck as a parent. It’s not like I had good examples.”

Jughead laughs “It’s not like my parents were good examples.”

Sweet Pea shakes his head and looks out the diner window, not focusing on anything specific and then he says “At least you can remember them.”

Jughead feels that sentence like a gut punch. His parents were undoubtabley bad, but least his dad was there, his mom, even just for a part of his childhood. 

Not that it’s enough to just be there. Jughead is just now realizing that he has to try harder too, at least in terms of Betty and the Bug. Circumstance has made them his family now, but he’s been treating Betty like a roommate. 

Before they leave Pop drops by the table unexpectedly, with a grilled cheese sandwich and fries for Betty. 

Jughead tries to pay but Pop insists it’s on the house and then adds, “If you’re looking for a job, I have one. It would only be a few nights a week, starting tomorrow.”

His first instinct is to turn Pop down. Jughead’s always been convinced that he’d make a terrible server. Between Betty’s job, his book advance, and the fact that the house is paid off, things aren’t exactly tight financially.

But then the fact that JB was working for Pop’s in spite of having enough money to pay off the house runs through Jughead’s head. He wonders if her working here had anything to do with the mysterious influx of money she received so recently, or her death. 

Besides getting out of the house a few nights a week would not be a bad thing.

“That would be great Pop,” Jughead says. 

Pop smiles, and then with a wink says, “Everything you eat comes out of your paycheck.”

Sweet Pea drives back and they talk about music, which they have opposite tastes in, and about movies, which they crossover heavily. It’s not a complete surprise. Jughead’s favorite movies have always been more violent than he is. 

Junebug falls asleep in the car and Jughead carries her in. He transfers Junebug to the nursery crib rather than the pack and play in Betty’s room that she normally sleeps in. 

The crib is flat and free of stuffed animals. Jughead lays Junebug on her back and she sighs, her arms shift slowly upwards till they’re in a position Betty refers to as goalpost.

Jelly used to sleep with Jughead’s wool hat, and a stuffed bear named Hiccup. He always layered her under quilts and sometimes even coats, if it was really cold in the trailer. But that was a long time ago. 

The hallway light is off, and Jughead can see a strip of light coming from beneath the door on Betty’s room, so he knocks. 

Betty opens the door in a faded blue t-shirt that says Believe in Mountains and soft purple pants. Her hair is wet.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead says. Betty raises one eyebrow and he knows that’s not going to be enough, so he blurts out the truth as fast as he can. “I think Jelly might have been murdered. I’ve been investigating it.”

Betty’s jaw goes slack. He wonders if this is the moment she decides he’s crazy and throws him out of the house. It’s just her name on the deed after all. 

Instead she opens the door and says, “Come in.”

Jughead’s been in Betty’s room before. Every morning when Junebug wakes up he comes in to retrieve her. So he knows what it looks like. The walls are a robin’s egg blue and the curtains and bedspread are violet. There are three bookshelves and a desk.

But at night, the whole space feels different. Only the lamp on her bedside table is on, casting a warm light around the room. It also feels strange to be in here with Betty. It feels oddly intimate, just sharing this space with her.

“Why do you think that?” Betty asks. He wishes he knew what she was actually thinking because he swears it’s more than that single question. But he finds her impossible to read right now so he gets up, goes to his room, retrieves the journal, then flipping it to the right page, he hands it to Betty. 

She reads the page and then looks at the date and then checks the front page of the diary. “Shit!”

“Yes,” Jughead says. “There are other weird things too. Like she was supposed to be at Pop’s yet cancelled last minute. But I might not be right. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to tell you.”

“What are the other reasons?”

“I didn’t want both our lives to be at risk if this is serious. If someone actually killed Jelly, investigating might not be the smartest thing for my life expectancy.”

Betty laughs. Jughead has heard her laugh before but not this kind. It’s sharp and loud, he can swear he hears a snort in there somewhere.

When she stops laughing she says, “It’s too late for that,” then digs under her bed and pulls out a folder. The folder is unmarked but Jughead already knows that it contains something about Jellybean, that he isn’t the only one investigating the case.

Jughead flips the folder open. The page on top is a lined notebook page with the words - Who Killed Jellybean - written on it in sharpie. Jughead was looking at the discrete version of a murderboard. His mouth feels dry. One room away his murderboard is tacked to the back of his door. It suddenly feels too obvious. He’s going to have to take it down tonight. 

Jughead had thought about telling Betty about his investigation all day, but never had he imagined that Betty would already be working on this case. 

“How long have you been investigating her murder?” Jughead asks. 

“Since you told me she called in sick to Pop’s on the night of her death. Jelly lied by omission all the time, but to call in sick to work and instead go out somewhere else doesn’t sound like her in the slightest. I didn’t think she was murdered at that point, I just thought it was worth looking into.” 

“What made you think she was murdered then?” 

Betty sighs. Jughead can see the tension building by the way she grabs the comforter cover between her fingers and squeezes it as if it’s a stress ball. 

“The first place I went looking for answers was the Riverdale coroner. I thought he’d know more than the police told me. Maybe there was some clue in the car with her. I have an ‘in’ with him, so it was an easy lead to go with.”

Now Jughead’s really confused. He’s also kicking himself for not even thinking of trying to track the coroner down. That’s what the detective in his novel would do after all. “How do you have an ‘in’ with the coroner?” 

“We met on a blind dating app last June.” Betty says with a shrug. “It didn’t work out romantically, but we work surprisingly well as friends.”

Jughead doesn’t know what is more bizarre, the fact that Betty is friends with a coroner, or the fact that she met a friend on a blind dating app. Jughead’s never used them, but before he met Veronica, Archie had every dating app available. Archie did not make friends that way. Although he did end up with several coffees thrown at him this way. 

“So you just asked the coroner to see Jelly’s records?”

“He has a name - Dr. Billy Curdle junior,” Betty says. “And all I had to do was ask.”

“And?” Jughead’s wondering where this is going. He also has to admit that Dr. Curdle’s ethics seem a bit debatable.

“Billy could tell that she died from impact, just like Sheriff Minetta told you. That’s all Billy could tell me initially, but because I asked, he made a copy of the file. While copying the file he saw that the CSI’s working on the car had discovered something very interesting and completely at odds with the Sherriff’s declaration that it was an accidental death.”

Jughead can feel the tension build within him, like a coil. “What did they find?”

“The break line had been blown up. It was a small timed detonation. If Jelly had been driving any faster the car would have been damaged in such a way that covered it up, but it wasn’t.“

Anger and vindication flood Jughead’s bloodstream. 

“The sheriff didn’t tell me that!” Jughead says. Outrage feels good after the numbness and confusion of the last few weeks. 

“The sheriff’s long been rumored to be untrustworthy. This confirms it.” Betty says, jotting down a note in her file. “He refused to tell me anything at all, because I wasn’t family.”

Jughead feels overwhelmed by the influx of information. He and Betty had been working on the case for the same amount of time, but her local knowledge seems to have made all the difference. 

He must look visibly overwhelmed because Betty takes his hand and guides him so that he’s sitting on the edge of her bed. 

She sits next to him, the length of a book between them, as she shuffles through her folder, and pulls out a manila envelope. She hands it to Jughead. 

“I don’t know if you’re up to looking at these, but Billy copied her files. It’s hard to read. There’s pictures of Jellybean after the accident in there, but there’s also the CSI’s notes.”

“Have you looked at them?”

“I had to.” 

He takes the envelope from her and reads through the contents slowly his stomach clenching as he goes. He never wanted to see Jelly like this. He doesn’t learn anything new, but it’s good to see his suspicions confirmed by experts. 

He’s not crazy. Neither is Betty. 

“Who do you think killed her?” Jughead asks.

“I don’t have a clue. She was tight with the Serpents, so I thought maybe someone from the rival gang in town had targeted her.” Jughead hadn’t thought of that. Although to be fair he was thinking in the opposite direction.

“I thought the Serpents might have killed her. Because she knew too much and wasn’t one of them. Something along those lines.” 

“It’s possible.” Betty says. “But you should have seen her at the Whyte Wyrm, she was beloved. She knew everyone and everyone talked to her. It wasn’t just some hold over from your dad or anything. People trusted her, they talked around her. I always thought the tension between Toni and her was based on the fact that Toni had joined the gang but because she was from out of town no one trusted her as much. I thought she resented Jelly. Although maybe not because of what I saw in Greendale.”

“You know what they say about Greendale.” Jughead says with a shrug. “Strange shit happens there.”

Betty laughs at the joke, a common line that every Riverdale resident knew. “Maybe you haven’t forgotten everything about this town.

“I don’t think there’s anything I’ve forgotten, but some things have changed. Back when I lived here there wasn’t really a rival gang, at least not a powerful one. What are they called?”

“The Ghoulies,” Betty says, and her teeth bite her bottom lip for a second. “I don’t know much about them, but I do know that their leader is named Malachi.”

Jughead’s whole body feels like shaking but instead he just nods stiffly, wondering if she’s made the same connection he did. She must because the next thing she says is, “It’s not a common name.”

“They must have known he was coming here. That might be the reason I was supposed to kill him back then.”

“I wonder why they didn’t?” 

“I’ve long suspected that the reason they wanted me to do it is that I wasn’t technically a member yet. I think an agreement between the gangs must have been in place. That me killing Malachi would have been a loophole. Another Serpent killing him might have caused a war.” 

“It’s a good point.” Betty says, not looking up, instead she’s focused on scrawling it all down in her notebook. 

Jughead yawns, the day was a long one. As much as he’s happy to be making headway, to have a partner in all this, he still needs sleep. Jughead really doesn’t know how Betty does it, she woke up well before him, and dealt with high schoolers all day. 

But she might be tired too, because she puts her pen down, and says, “This is a good stopping point. We can keep working on it tomorrow.”

Jughead is about to nod, but then he remembers what he’s already agreed to do. “I can’t. I told Pop I’d start work tomorrow.”

Even though Betty’s lips are still caught in a half smile, he can tell she’s upset. Why shouldn’t she be? The agreement was for him to stay at home with the baby, and she’d cover the majority of the bills. Jughead wasn’t thinking of her at all, when he agreed to the job.

“It’s only two nights a week,” he says, digging the hole deeper. “I thought maybe it would give us some insight on Jelly. Maybe something related to Pop’s is how she ended up being able to buy off the house.”

Betty looks deep in thought. Not angry, just preoccupied, but still he knows he should say something.

“I’m sorry I should have asked you.”

“You should have,” Betty says with a shrug.

“I know. I’ve just been on my own for a long time. I’ve lived on my own, made decisions on my own. Even my best friend, as close as we are, our relationship was different than you and Jelly’s.”

“You mean there were no kids involved?”

Jughead can’t help but laugh. “No bills either.”

Betty nods. “I’d be madder, but I think it’s a good idea. I think Pop’s would be a great place to start, particularly for the Ghoulies. They don’t have a base of operation like the Whyte Wyrm, but most nights at least a few of them gather there.”

“Pop must love that.”

“He’s never complained.” Betty says with a shrug. “We can work on the case the night after. Take my notes to look over tomorrow.”

Jughead nods as he takes the folder from her. “I’ll run everything by you from now on”. The smile she makes in response to that sentence if a good reminder how important that happiness is. He feels better just having known that smile was directed at him. 

When Jughead falls asleep that night he’s not thinking about the band posters plastered to the ceiling above him, but that smile, full of grace and light.

He wakes, per usual, to a wailing baby, this time not over the baby monitor but in the hallway. He leaps out of bed to find Betty fully dressed in her usual teachers outfit (casual skirt, buttoned top), with Junebug weeping in her arms.

“What’s going on?” Jughead says, still filled with sleep.

“She woke up early. She’s in pain. I have to go to work. You know what to do with the Tylenol right?” Betty says, handing the flailing Junebug over.

“Sure,” Jughead says with more confidence than he feels. Betty runs for the front door, shoving her feet into shoes as she exits. 

Jughead grabs the medication from the bathroom and measures it out as carefully as he can given that there’s a crying baby in his arms. 

The purple contents seem to appeal to Junebug, who swallows it quicker than she ever does formula. She’s still crying after he stops, but it seems less urgent. Only then is he able to check the time. 

It’s 7:45, which explains why Betty rushed out so urgently. Jughead dances around the living room, the baby in his arms for a few more minutes, till she relaxes into his arms and her body grows heavy with sleep. 

Jughead looks down at her face which had been full of tears just moments ago, and now is the picture of contentment. He’s so grateful he was able to guide her to peace. 

He finds the folder on Jelly’s murder in his bedroom and curls up on the sofa, with Junebug napping against his chest. 

Jughead flips through the file avoiding the contents of the manila envelope. Instead he focuses on Betty’s meticulous notes. 

Most of what she knows they covered the night before, except for the timeline of Jelly’s last day alive. Betty was gone most of the day, but she found out from Tina that the pair of them had a lunch date, and she found out from FP that they spoke on the phone. 

That night Betty overlapped for two hours with Jelly who seemed to have a cold and be in a bad mood. The last words the two exchanged according to the timeline were “See you later.”

Junebug sighs on Jughead’s chest and he puts down the papers for a moment and plants a kiss on her head. It’s not a move that comes naturally to him, but he sees Betty do these sort of casual acts of affection towards the Bug all the time. He wants the Bug to know she has two sources of love. 

There are a few blank pages at the end of the file. Lined and ready for writing. Jughead scrounges around in the couch cushions, Junebug still on his chest, one hand rested on her, the other finding all sorts of coins and bits of dirt, and finally a pen. 

He takes it out and starts to write what he knows about The Serpents down. One of the big question marks for him is where Sweet Pea is in the organization, but he knows that Tall Boy is in a leadership position of some sort. He wonders who is King now. Betty would probably know. 

There’s movement on his chest, so he looks down to see Junebug. She’s on her back, eyelashes long, eyes open, big and full of wonder. 

It looks like she’s about to speak. Her lips open and her tongue becomes visible, then suddenly her chubby hands are pressing into his stomach, and she’s sitting up, her body wobbling.

He’s grateful for his years in construction giving him strong hand eye coordination and quick reflexes, because he drops the paper and pen and places his hands around the Bug’s unsteady body. She yelps in shock, not expecting such a firm grip. 

He stands up and holds her in both arms, only then having a second to take in, with amazement and wonder the fact that Junebug had set up for the first time. 

It seems like a strange sort of miracle. Unexpected in every way. Proof that one day she might be able do something as incredible as feed herself or use a toilet.

Junebug relaxes in his arms, slumping forward. Exhausted from the simple act of sitting up Jughead lays her gently on the playmat, covered with orange lions. She’s facing up, looking at him calmly, knowingly almost, as if even as a four month old she has a secret inner life that she’s hiding from him. 

He remembers his phone now and uses it to text Betty, even though he knows she’s in class. She would want to know about this. She should have been the one to see it. 

She texts back three minutes later - Try to catch it on video. Wish I could be there. Tell the bug I love her.

“Aunt Betty loves you,” Jughead says, getting his phone out and pointing it at Junebug just in case she sits up again. She does not. Instead she starts to cry.

Jughead goes about the normal routine of the day. He heats up formula, stuffs cereal in his own mouth, cleans the kitchen one handed, texts Tina the good news and arranges a play date for tomorrow. 

Somehow in a way that is both fast and slow, the whole day passes, and at 4:30 a beaming Betty enters with a grin already on her face. She pulls Junebug from Jughead’s arms with a clear eagerness and she presses kisses all over the baby’s face. Jughead is not entirely sure that Junebug likes it.

“I’m so proud of you,” Betty keeps saying over and over again. 

When Betty’s finally done with the hugging, she sets Junebug down on her back. No sitting up occurs but a series of bright smiles do, so that makes up for it in part. 

“She really sat up,” Jughead says as Betty busies about making a salad for herself (he’s made it rather clear he’s eating at Pop’s).

“I believe you,” Betty says with a wink. “Did you make any headway on the case today?”

“Not really. I started to put together a list of the Serpents, the structure of the organization, but I don’t really know what it looks like now. Do you?”

“A little. They try to keep things on the down low. But Tallboy is the King now.”

Jughead doesn’t like that at all. He’s never trusted the man, even when called himself FP’s best friend. 

“Anything else?”

Betty shrugs. “Sweet Pea doesn’t talk about it, but I get the impression he’s pretty high up in the organization. Third in command maybe. I know he’s done runs to Canada for drugs. He told me that much once while high.”

Jughead nods and starts entering the information into his phone. It’s much easier to keep track of it there, and it’s easy to do that while Junebug is content in the bouncer at his feet. 

“I know Toni’s at the bottom, that Penny’s the only woman higher up, because of her law degree. Fangs is somewhere in the middle, definitely lower than Pea. FP’s in jail, but he claims to still be weighing in on things.”

Of course FP would still want to voice his opinion. FP had always been a distant father for his children, but it was almost impossible to keep him away from anything he deemed to be Serpent business. 

“What did Tallboy think of Jelly?” Jughead asks. 

“They seemed pretty neutral towards each other,” Betty says. “He and Pea are close, that must have been a factor.”

Jughead wonders again what role Sweet Pea plays in all this. But it’s pointless to speculate. He’s just one of a dozen or so suspects at this point.

Still it feels great to discuss it with someone. To be working on this as a partnership, with someone he has every reason to trust.

Betty sits down across from him, her salad in a blue bowl in front of her, blueberries gleaming in it like jewels.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” She asks.

Jughead’s always felt like salads are deceptive, they look great, sweet almost, but when you actually ate them they tasted of dirt and nothingness. Besides he had to get to work. 

“I’ve got to go. Pop is expecting me,” Jughead says with a shrug. 

Betty nods. “Good luck.”

Jughead thinks he’s about to be the worst server ever, but he still says “Thanks,” as he leaves. 

As he drives to work in Betty’s car, he thinks again about how he has to buy one. That’s probably where some of his savings should go. 

When he gets close to Pop’s he deliberately looks away from the makeshift memorial for Jelly. He knows that everyone contributing to it has the best intentions, but it feels like a knife in his side to see it as he passes.

Pop’s inside and ready to show him the ropes. It’s the dinner rush and Jughead tails him like an awkward dog. By nine the dinner is empty. Jughead and Pop are in the kitchen now. Pop has him practicing writing down imaginary customers’ orders, which seems like an absurd task. 

The bell above the door dings, and Pop asks, “Are you ready for your first customer?” 

Jughead nods and walks out of the swinging door. A tall man with brown, greasy hair greets him. Jughead has never met him before, but he’ll always remember that face from a photograph he was handed a decade ago - this is Malachi in the flesh. 

Malachi has no reason at all to recognize Jughead. He just sends him a lazy smile as Jughead takes his order. Jughead tries not to show his nerves.

Later, when Jughead comes back out with Malachi’s coffee and cherry pie, the man has two other people with him, flunkies by the looks of it. Both sporting studded leather jackets and too much eye make-up. Both young and male.

“Anything I can get you?” Jughead asks. 

“Two burgers. All on one bill.” Malachi says. Nothing about him screams dangerous. He’s like most of the other customers Jughead’s served tonight. It’s strange to think that a decade ago he was supposed to have killed this man, not be refilling his coffee.

Jughead nods and heads back to Pop who sighs, “No need to rush, they’ll be here for hours.” Pop walks Jughead through cooking burger patties. Only on the third round does he really get it right. 

When he takes the burgers out to them the Ghoulies are in a heated debate about cars, Jughead tries to ignore. 

Back in the kitchen Pop’s sitting down on a chair, his forehead beaded with sweat. Jughead wonders how old Pop actually is. Pop has looked the same pretty much the whole time Jughead has known him, but he’s probably in his sixties at least. Too old for hours like these in any case.

“You can go home,” Jughead says. “I don’t think it will be very busy.”

“It won’t,” Pop says, standing up slowly. “I’ll do that. Just make sure to sweep. Don’t make anything that isn’t a burger.”

After Pop leaves, two more groups drift in for coffee and pie. Malachi’s posse doesn’t shift, but they do grow a little louder. Macachi’s sprawled on his side of the booth now, legs up on the vinyl covered cushioning.

One time when Jughead’s passing them they’re talking about cars and the next time they are talking about fizzle rocks. 

When the other groups leave and Jughead’s sweeping the diner he overhears Malachi say, “I don’t know if the FBI is actually off our backs.”

“I still don’t believe that they were ever on our backs.” One of the younger Ghoulie’s replies. “We aren’t really moving that much product compared to the Serpents.”

“Yeah, well the Serpents have the protection of the larger organization as a whole. We don’t have that anymore,” Malachi say. 

Jughead really wishes they would continue to talk, but they must spot him at that point, because they clam up. Malachi throws down just enough cash to cover the bill, no tip, and then they leave. The youngest Ghoulie offering a salute as they leave, the bell dinging above them.

Before the door closes Jughead hears one of the younger Ghoulies say, “That was the brother of the bitch, wasn’t it?”

The door closes before Jughead can hear Malachi’s answer, but he thinks he knows what the other man’s answer would be. 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm grateful for any and all feedback!
> 
> (My younger one sat up once at five months and then didn't do it again for another month. Babies are weird that way)


	4. Late News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe a huge thank you to Kittilee for beta-ing this, and encouraging all the soft moments! Also she made some amazing graphics for this piece. Go to my Tumblr (under the same name), if you want to see them!
> 
> Also I am so grateful for the ongoing support this fic has received from readers!

In the morning, Jughead wakes to the sound of a baby crying through the monitor, yet no memory of being handed said monitor. He retrieves Junebug and they settle into their normal routine of eating, cleaning, and fussing. It’s kind of like living out the plot of Groundhog Day, except for the fact that every few days Junebug seems more aware and more connected to him. Some days now, she even seems to listen to him while he talks. 

Jughead can’t wait to update Betty about Malachi, but he doesn’t want to text about it. It seems too difficult to convey over the phone. 

Jughead’s on edge when FP calls from prison, as he does every week now at the same time, on the same day. Usually Jughead anticipates the call, but today it comes as a surprise, the ring interrupting his second cup of coffee.

Junebug is on Jughead’s hip, his arm around her waist. He doesn’t have to support her body the same way he did a week ago. The speed that babies grow at is wild. 

He answers FP’s call with an abrupt “hey.” Usually Jughead’s warmer. More careful with his tone. Today his patience is elsewhere. The late night not helping. 

“Hi, son.” FP says. FP’s always called him that. It’s a verbal tic Jughead’s never understood. The word “son” conveying a close connection he never particularly felt with FP. “What are you up to?”

Jughead isn’t comfortable telling FP too much about his activities, so instead he tries to redirect the subject to Junebug, “The Bug’s doing good. She hasn’t pooped in a few days, but Betty assured me that’s normal with babies on liquid diets.”

“Is it?” FP’s tone is skeptical on the other end of the line.

“Betty says so.” 

“Shouldn’t you check with the doctor?”

“Betty checked with the doctor.” 

“And that’s good enough for you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line as if FP is considering disputing this point, but when he speaks he just says, “Good. How’s Betty?”

Jughead’s asked Betty a lot of questions about FP now that they’re in open investigation mode. Jughead feels like somehow his father ties into the larger mystery. But Betty doesn’t know him well. They’d met a couple times before he went to prison, and Betty knew about the phone calls. Betty said FP and Jelly were close, but Jelly always treated him more like a friend than a father. They’d joke together, drink together, but she didn’t seem to talk about major issues with him. 

“She’s good. Busy grading midterms and such.”

“You hook up yet?”

Jughead wants to laugh. This feels like proof positive that his father doesn’t know him at all. “No.” 

“She’s pretty.” FP states, a thoughtful tone in his voice. 

“I have eyes.” Jughead says. He knows Betty’s beautiful, but that’s not what makes her so attractive to him. “How are you?”

“Fine. I’ve been working in the library. Reading a lot of outdated books.” Jughead spent his childhood reading, but he doesn’t remember FP ever cracking one open. Of all the ways prison can change a person that didn’t seem like the worst one.

“Read anything good lately?” Jughead asks, he’s genuinely curious about FP’s taste in books. It makes him more aware of the fact that he hasn’t read much himself recently.

“I just finished Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for the fifth time.”

“Oh, a classic.” Jughead has read it more than once himself.

“For good reason. How are you doing?”

“Fine. I started work at Pop’s last night. It should keep me busy. I need to buy a car still, I’m always borrowing Betty’s.”

“My bikes in the garage if you’re interested,” FP says. “It’s not like I’m using it.”

Jughead had forgotten about the bike. A staple of many of his childhood memories. It was the one thing FP owned that he seemed to take pride in.

Jughead hadn’t even been in the garage. Betty mostly kept her car in the driveway. A bike would be better than a car in some ways, although decidedly un-practical in the context of Junebug. That hardly mattered for his work commute though. 

“I’m interested. You sure?”

“As long as you remember how to ride it?” 

“Yeah. I have a Hyundi in Chicago gathering dust in Archie’s fiancée’s garage.”

FP chuckles on the other end of the line. By the time Jughead hangs up he's feeling grateful for FP, but he tries to shake that feeling off. This happens most weeks. They have a shockingly good conversation and then Jughead spends the rest of the week having to talk himself into disliking the man all over again. Each week some of Jughead’s resolve diminishes.

After the call Jughead wears the Bug in the baby front pack and she sleeps while he walks around the river. Often while he’s walking, he wonders what Jelly did during her days, how she kept busy. 

He wishes Junebug could tell him what her mother used to do. Maybe Junebug could solve the mystery. He looks down at the top of her sleeping head, tufted with black hair. He can’t see her face, but he can feel her breathing against him, a patch of drool soaking through his shirt. 

That night Betty gets home late, a bag from Pop’s in her hand. She looks tired, her bun coming undone a bit in the back. Jughead makes a mental note to make dinner for her tomorrow. 

Jughead tells her all about Malachi over fries and shakes. Betty adds everything to her folder, now their folder and when she looks up at him her eyes gleam brighter. 

“We should talk to Pop. He might know why Malachi said that about Jellybean.”

It seems like the only way forward. “Should we go now?”

Betty laughs and gestures to the takeout bags around them, “I think next time you have a shift, would make more sense.”

Jughead nods, even though that seems to require more patience than he currently has. But time passes slowly and quickly with a baby, and soon a few days have passed and Jughead’s back at Pop’s, one of those annoying aprons around his waist.

It’s busy at first. Some sort of sporting event must have happened because a number of the teens are wearing numbered face paint and Jughead hears the word “score” being referred to over and over again. If he actually listened he would know more, but his default setting is to filter out sports talk out. 

At nine, the last large group of friends exit the diner cheering, surely headed to some sort of house party. Jughead sweeps the floor and gets so caught up in the activity, he doesn’t notice Pop behind the counter, watching him, till he’s finished. 

Pop looks like he got more rest this week. He’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and in front of him, on the counter, there’s another.

“Is that for me?” Jughead asks after putting the broom away. 

“You certainly earned it,” Pop says with a smile on his face. “You’re a better server than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m a better server than I thought I’d be too,” Jughead says, lifting the mug to his lips. This smell, Pop’s special blend of beans, reminds him of home, of growing up, more than any other scent. “Was Jelly good at the job?”

Pop shrugged, “She was fine. More chatty than you with customers, but terrible at getting orders right sometimes.”

“I’ll never be the chatty type. At least not with strangers,” Jughead says with a shrug.

“Even if they started out as strangers with Jellybean, they didn’t stay that way. She befriended every regular we had,” Pop says with a shrug. 

“Even Malachi?” Jughead asks. He can’t believe how well this has gone so far, how easy it seems. Of course Pop doesn’t realize he’s being questioned here, he doesn’t know that this is part of a murder investigation because Pop’s doesn’t suspect that Jelly was murdered. 

“He was a favorite of hers actually. Why do you look so surprised?”

“During my last shift, one of his minions referred to Jelly as ‘that bitch’, after they figured out we were related”

Pop tuts and shakes his head. “That’s no good. And it doesn’t make sense. They were always talking, and she gave him a lot of free cherry pie. She didn’t think I knew about that, but she did.”

“What did they talk about?” Jughead asks, trying to sound like an interested brother, not an investigator. 

Pop shrugs. “Mostly cars I think. They also talked about their families a bit. Malachi’s family was a big deal in organized crime, but last year most of them were wiped out.”

“Really? By who?” Jughead says a little shocked. Pop shrugs and then quietly but distinctly hisses.

Of course the Serpents would be involved in this. As an organization they just seem to have grown in wealth and power since Jughead left town. That thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“I think they talked about drugs also.”

“What?” Jughead’s surprised. He’s seen nothing in Jelly’s room to indicate that she was a user, and nothing in her diary either. Besides she was breastfeeding Junebug till she died. Surely she wouldn’t poison her own daughter.

After a moment of silence, Pop’s says, “I caught her selling a customer pills once. I almost let her go for it, but she begged me not to. Told me it would never happen again.”

“When did this happen? Do you think she was selling for the Ghoulies?" Jughead doesn’t know what to do with this information, he feels shaky and confused. 

“It happened about a month before she died. I don’t think she was working with the Ghoulies though. You have to know she was in pretty deep with The Serpents. She never wore a jacket, but I don’t think she was far from being a full fledged member.”

“I’m not blind,” Jughead says, still he hates the idea that she was entangled with them, that they put her up to this. He probably shouldn’t say this to Pop, but he has to say it someone, so he goes for it, “I came back to discover that the Jelly I knew was gone, replaced by a stranger.”

A softness comes over Pop’s face. “Jug, I knew your sister her whole life. The older she got the more of a mystery she became but I never questioned her motives.”

“What do you mean?” 

“She always tried to do the best for Junebug, for you, for Betty. She never would betray her family. I believed that she was selling drugs because she had to do that to survive.”

Jughead admired how Pop always saw the best in people. Even if it wasn’t really relevant here. 

“Do you know she owned her house outright?” Jughead asks. Because knowing that fact prevents Jughead believing that Jelly was so desperate for money that she would sell drugs.

Pop’s looks a little shocked and shakes his head. “Maybe the Serpents had something on her? Maybe it wasn’t about the money.”

The idea comes as a surprise but also a relief. It’s a good idea, particularly in light of the fact that Jelly was killed. 

“Maybe.” Jughead says with a nod, and then more honestly he adds, “I hope.”

It’s late by then, and Pop sends him home soon after, with a piece of pie in a Styrofoam container for Betty. 

Jughead is home later than usual and he knows the morning will be particularly hard, but there’s nothing he can do about it. It’s not like Betty can call in sick. Instead she heads out first thing in the morning and Junebug wakes soon after that. 

Jughead texts Betty about what Pop says about Jelly dealing drugs, and Betty texts back – **I DON’T BUY IT**. Jughead refrains from teasing her about using caps lock.

The day progresses slowly. Junebug fussing more than usual and Jughead’s body lagging with exhaustion. Finally at noon, he calls Tina out of desperation and she comes over for an impromptu play date. Her baby, Amy, stares at Junebug for a solid half hour while Junebug stares back.

Tina talks non-stop about the home renovations that are ongoing and her husband’s failures, minor and otherwise. Normally it would drive Jughead nuts, but instead it’s motivation to stay awake. 

Besides it’s good to spend time in adult company. During the week it sometimes feels like he only sees Betty during brief windows of time that are always dominated by the practical matters of cleaning, cooking, childcare, and the murder investigation.

Often he finds himself wanting to spend time with Betty just discussing books and movies, which is kind of tricky, given the circumstances. 

By the time Tina leaves to go make dinner, Jughead’s relieved to have a few moments of silence. Betty arrives home soon after, with supplies for sandwiches. 

“I’m not staying,” are the first words out of Betty’s mouth as Jughead hands her a crying Junebug, who immediately calms in Betty’s arms. “I’ve had Dr. Curdle Junior looking into something for me and he seems to have found results.”

“About Jelly?” He doesn’t know what else they could possibly find out about her body. They already have the reports. 

“No.” Betty pulls the sliced turkey from the bag, holding Junebug against her hip with the other arm. “But it’s related.”

“How?” He’s not used to Betty withholding information. She’s always been very straightforward with him. Very matter of fact. 

“I will tell you if it equals something.”

“Is this revenge?” Jughead half jokes. 

Betty shakes her head but looks a little too smug to be telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth, “I’ll tell you if I find out anything.”

She places three kisses against Junebugs forehead before leaving the now crying Bug with him. 

It’s a quiet evening at home. The Bug goes to sleep early for once and Jughead starts to watch something on Netflix about Vikings. He’s fully engaged in the casual bloodletting and justified vengeance by the time Betty returns home. 

He doesn’t have to say anything to know she found something out. Her hands are clinched. Jughead stops the show and says, “What happened? Are you OK?” 

Betty doesn’t reply with words. Instead she reaches into her purse and pulls out a folder. On it are the words Jane Doe, 1999, Toledo.

The word Toledo surprises Jughead. He’s never been there, but Gladys always talked about it. It was her hometown, a place she idolized and mentioned often. 

Jughead opens the file and there’s a picture of a corpse that looks a lot like what his mother once did in his memory. The photo is dated. Dec 7th, 1999. That’s only five days after Gladys left Riverdale. Jughead had been ten at the time.

There’s a second photograph of the body, and a third. The fourth is the one that really convinces him without a doubt that this is Gladys. 

The photo is of the body’s legs, and on the left one there is a distinct scar running along the back, from joint to Achilles. The one his mother had, the one he used to trace as a child during the summer.

His knees feel weak, his arms shaky. He’s always assumed that Gladys is out there in the world somewhere, alive and well having left them for her own life. He’s dismissed her as selfish, but he’s also admired that selfishness in a way. It had given him the courage to leave Riverdale when he had to. 

Although this picture, this folder made it clear that Gladys made it out of Riverdale only to die somewhere else. A strange and unexpected fate.

Jughead feels a gut punch of sadness, of loss, even though his mother hadn’t been in his life for a very long time now. It was one thing to think she was alive in the world, out there somewhere. It was something else entirely to know that she was dead. 

“What the fuck is this?” Jughead asks.

“What do you think it is?” Betty says, her posture altering in reaction to his words. Her shoulders straighten, her lips press together. He’s not mad at her though. It’s the situation that’s fucked up. 

They are both standing now, facing each other in the middle of the living room as if they are about to engage in some sort of show down. 

Jughead takes a deep breath. “My mother is dead.”

“I’m so sorry Jug. I don’t know what to say about this…” Betty says, and though she says it sincerely, it makes the absurdity of the situation clear to Jughead. He’s lost so much lately under such strange circumstances. He shouldn’t find it funny, but he does. 

He starts laughing, uncontrollably, and then just as surprisingly, the laughter, transitions into tears. 

Jughead doesn’t even really notice when Betty first wraps his body in hers and holds him. She slowly moves them both to the sofa. 

Only after Jughead finishes crying, his head pressed against her shoulder, does he realize how vulnerable he made himself.

He hasn’t cried heavily like this in well over a decade, and now he’s wept on the shoulder of his sister’s best friend, the woman who is becoming best friend. Shame rushes through him. This behavior was so unlike him.

Betty doesn’t say anything, she just hands him tissues. He doesn’t even know where she found them. Sometimes she reminds him of a magician in that way.

“I’m sorry” he says, looking Betty in the eye. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. I should have told you what I was looking into. I just didn’t think anything would come of it.” 

“How did you even know to look into it?”

Betty looks apprehensive of the question, but still she answers it. “About two years ago, before we moved in together, Jelly got really drunk one night. It was the only time I saw her like that. We were here. Shots were involved. I was less than sober myself.”

Jughead nods. He can picture the situation happening right here in the living room. 

“She’d talked to me about Gladys before that a few times. Always in the context of her being alive, of Jelly finding her. I know that’s why she started talking to FP again in the first place.”

That makes sense to Jughead, he understands the motives there.

“That night, when Jelly was really drunk she told me Gladys was dead. That she died in Toledo right after she’d left town, that all the years Jelly had spent looking for her, were for nothing. She told the whole story like it was a morbid joke and she was the punchline.”

“Fuck.” Jughead said. Jelly knew this and never told him. Another secret on her never ending list. Jughead wonders why she kept such upsetting news to herself. 

“She never brought it up again.” Betty says with a shrug. Their bodies are so close Jughead feels the movement rather than sees it. “I didn’t question it’s validity till she died. You never brought it up, so I assumed you didn’t know. So I got Billy, Dr. Curdle, to look into it. I didn’t know what I would find. I don’t know how Jelly figured it out.”

“I had no idea.” Jughead said. “It was the sort of truth I never questioned.”

“Why would you?”

Jughead doesn’t bother answering the question, not even in his own head, instead he finds himself focused on what Gladys death meant in regards to Jelly. 

He retrieves the file from where it was dropped on the floor and flips through it. There on the very first page is the cause of death, bullet wound to the chest. Gladys was unquestionably murdered. 

It could just be a coincidence. A mother and daughter both killed in very different ways over a long period of time, but it doesn’t feel like one. He thinks the cases are linked, if only by Jelly’s obsession with her mother’s life. 

Jughead flips through the file. There’s no information about suspects in there. All the police knew was that Jane Doe checked into the Aloha Motel under the name Betty Boop three nights previous to her death. She paid for a full week. Her body was found in the woods outside of town a week later. 

It could be that the Serpents killed her, but then why would they wait till she left town? Maybe it was an arrangement with a different group of Serpents, the way, so many years ago Jughead had been asked to kill for a Serpent gang in a different city.

Or she could have just had bad luck. She was a woman traveling on her own with little money presumably. 

All of these possibilities rush through him. But he knows what he has to do, even if it’s impossible, even if it’s a fool’s errand, he has to go to Toledo. Not to see his mother’s body, which is probably long gone, but to visit the motel, to discover if he can find out anything about what happened there.

“I’m going to Toledo,” he says.

“When?” Betty asks, and again he’s reminded of the reality that this effects Betty too. That if he’s gone, she’s alone with the Bug for the weekend, her one real break of the week (and even then the term “break” is debatable when it involves baby care and grocery shopping, meal prep, and house cleaning).

“Maybe next week. It’s Thanksgiving” Jughead says. It’s Friday now, and Toledo’s a solid drive from Riverdale. It’s not the sort of trip one could make on the spur of the moment. If he waited till next Wednesday Betty would be off work for the holiday and he’d have more time there. 

Only then does he realize that he has no idea if she has any plans for the holidays, maybe even ones that involve being baby free for a night. He focuses on her expression to see if she looks mad, but instead it’s neutral, in a way that implies that she’s busy thinking about other things.

“Should I go too?” There’s a nervous undertone to Betty’s voice that implies that she’s unsure if she should even ask. It’s a long way to travel with a baby. Junebug is fine in the car if she’s asleep, but if she’s not she’s moody and upset. 

Besides Jughead’s the one who wants to go. But he wouldn’t even know about this if not for Betty. She’s resourceful, with a sharp mind, and a kind face that draws strangers in the way his never will.

It’s been a very long time since his mother was killed, but if there are any clues to find, he’s more likely to find them with Betty by his side. 

“I would like it if you did,” Jughead says, meeting her gaze. “But you don’t have to. You probably have Thanksgiving plans or something.”

“I don’t.” Betty says with a shrug.“I will come. I want to help. If I stay here, I’ll just get anxious.” 

“I appreciate your help,” Jughead says. He feels her shift on the sofa beside him. “I don’t want to take all your free time and make you solve mysteries.”

Betty laughs. It’s a sharp long laugh. “You’re not making me do anything. As a kid, I was so desperate for a mystery to solve. I called myself a detective and I’d sit in the lobby of my apartment building and keep track of everyone who came in and out. If I knew their name, I’d write it down. If I didn’t, I would describe what they looked like.”

It’s surprisingly easy to picture this childhood version of Betty. Jughead imagines that they would be friends. He was always trying to convince Archie to play detective with him. Betty would not have needed convincing. 

“Me too. I used to write down the license plate numbers of cars who had been parked for too long near Archie’s house,” Jughead says. He’s tempted to add that any car that was left longer than a day near the trailer would be stolen, plates and all, but he doesn’t.

Betty’s expression shifts and grows serious. “I felt guilty at first for investigating Jelly’s death. Like it was a strange form of wish fulfillment, that I’d finally get a mystery to solve.”

Jughead shakes his head. “It’s not like that at all.” He’s surprised though, given Betty’s love of investigations, that she didn’t pursue a different career. Jughead hadn’t had the money or time for school, but for Betty to become a detective of some sort seemed much more possible. “Why didn’t you become a detective?”

“It wasn’t an option. Even convincing my mother that I should go to teachers college was a battle. She said it wasn’t the right kind of education for a ‘woman of my standing.’ I mentioned going into criminal justice just once, in high school, and she had been so furious. It didn’t seem worth the battle.”

“Why not go back to school after they cut you off?”

“I didn’t have the money. I could support myself with teaching, but I couldn’t afford to get another degree at the same time.” Betty shrugs. 

“I never planned to do construction, but it was the only job I could get in Chicago, I grew to like it. Although not enough to miss it.” 

Betty laughs and then yawns, “I need to go to bed now.”

Jughead glances at the clock. It’s already late. When he looks back at Betty she’s already up and walking towards her room. 

“Goodnight,” he calls.

“Night Jug.” is her response.

The next few days pass quickly. A weekend full of logistics and one nice walk, all three of them down to Sweetwater and back. The Bug slept the whole time which allowed them plenty of time to dissect the Cormoran Strike novels. Jughead doesn’t remember ever having someone he could talk about books with like this.

The week starts with a shift from Pops and a call from FP. During the call, Jughead wonders if he should mention Gladys, but he doesn’t. It seems safer to wait till they get back from Toledo and hopefully know more. 

He tries not to speculate about his father’s involvement, at least not at this point. Instead he tries out the bike for the first time, taking it to Pop’s.

It rides like he remembers it, a little slower to shift gears than his bike in Chicago, but more comfortable. 

Then on Tuesday, the day before they leave for Toledo in the evening, Junebug coughs once during breakfast. Jughead doesn’t think much of it at the time. Babies cough for no reason sometimes, just like everyone else.

All morning she’s fussy, eventually he ends up wearing her in the baby carrier. He gives her a toy to hold, a teething ring that says “the future is female”. She falls asleep in the carrier finally, as he sweeps the kitchen. He makes and then eats lunch standing up. 

She wakes, crying a little. Something’s off and so he takes her temperature, the way Betty taught him to a month ago. It’s easy, a simple forehead scan, but he keeps thinking he must be doing it wrong. The screen keeps flashing red and the number 100.

He texts Betty about it. She phones back and tells him to go into the doctor’s office. 

In the waiting room Jughead’s surrounded by women and children. It feels strange that he’s the only man there, but he is. 

Junebug’s unhappy in his arms. A new diaper doesn’t solve the problem and neither does more formula. Jughead hopes the doctor will have answer. He’s worried about her now.

Jughead stands and sways with her in his arms. The receptionist looks at him and says, “You’re such a good dad.” He wants to correct her, but he can’t say anything. He hopes that one day Junebug will think of him as dad. 

It reminds him that he should probably tell Sweet Pea, so he texts him, Junebug’s body still cradled in his arms. 

Sweet Pea texts him right back. First it’s just the word “shit”, then it’s followed by a text that says – **Out of town. Back Saturday. Keep Updated.**

Jughead wishes Sweet Pea told them about his trip in advance. Although to be fair, Jughead hadn’t told Sweet Pea that he & Betty are planning to take Junebug out of Riverdale for Thanksgiving.

After a few more minutes the doctor calls them back. Doctor Rodgers has huge caterpillar eyebrows, and curly gray hair. He smiles at Junebug and she cries. 

Jughead turns her head so it’s facing into his chest and then he rocks a bit from foot to foot, till she stops again. Once she stops crying Dr. Rodgers says, “You must be the dad.” and Jughead realizes that he must have never met Sweet Pea.

“No. I’m Junebug’s Uncle Jughead. I’m her legal guardian.”

Dr. Rodgers seems confused by this statement. “I thought Betty was Junebug’s legal guardian.”

It’s telling, but in no way surprising that the doctor knows Betty but not Sweet Pea. Jughead shrugs and then says, “We both are.”

“Good, good.” The doctor says and then he asks to see Junebug. The minute Jughead changes his positioning so that the doctor can see her, she starts screaming. The doctor seems unphased though and takes her temperature with what looks like a slip of paper pressed under her tongue. 

The doctor takes an otoscope, (a word Jughead knows only because it’s used in the novel he wrote), and looks into Junebug’s left ear and then right one. 

The Bugs continued crying is frustrating. All of Jughead’s instincts are telling him to calm her down, to take care of her, but that’s not the doctor’s priority. Instead, the doctor gets Jughead to take off her onesie and then the doctor presses a stethoscope to her chest.

The doctor looks up and says, “It’s an ear infection.”

Jughead feels relieved to hear that. It’s a common ailment after all and he remembers having many as a child.

“So she’ll feel better soon?” Jughead asks.

“If you give her antibiotics she will. You could try and wait it out, but she’s running a fever which is always a risk at this age.”

“I’ll give her the antibiotics,” Jughead says.

As they get up to go, almost as an afterthought Dr. Rodgers says, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Jughead nods, because there’s really nothing beyond that that he can say. 

Jughead manages to calm the Bug down before they get back to the car, and she falls asleep on the way to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription. She sleeps through the whole pharmacy visit, which is mostly un-notable, except for a tall dark haired serpent lurking on aisle ten. 

Jughead calls Betty once they’re home, the Bug still in her car seat, which is now in the living room. Betty doesn’t answer the call, instead she opens the door, an anxious expression on her face. 

“It’s just an ear infection.” Jughead says, instead of a greeting. “I’ve already bought antibiotics.”

“Thank goodness.” Betty says, and then to his surprise she hugs him tightly. They’ve never really hugged before, and Jughead’s never been much of a hugger, but it’s a good one. Her arms feel secure and warm around his body.

Only once Jughead is wrapped in her arms does he realize how much he’s missed being touched. How tired he really is from this day without breaks.

After the hug he slumps on the couch while Betty busies herself cooking some sort of soup. Calling out to him from the kitchen time to time. He texts Sweet Pea to tell him everything is OK. Sweet Pea’s reply is a smiley face emoji. 

Junebug doesn’t wake up till 9 PM, when they wake her to feed her the medicine. It’s strange that this is the first thing she’ll eat that isn’t formula or breastmilk. 

She falls back asleep in the Pack and Play. Betty goes to bed and Jughead tries to read. But he can’t because he can hear how fitfully the Bug is sleeping. Every 15 minutes Betty seems to have to get up to calm her down. 

Jughead keeps thinking that he should be going to bed, but he can’t seem to make himself go without the baby being more solidly asleep. At midnight he realizes that isn’t going to happen. 

So he gets up, brushes his teeth, changes into the only pair of PJ bottoms he owns and an older S t-shirt and knocks softly on Betty’s door. 

She looks exhausted when she opens it. Her eyes seem not capable of fully being open at first.

“Jug?” she says, seeming surprised by his presence, even though he’s the only one in the house besides her and the Bug.

“I keep hearing Junebug. I know you have to teach tomorrow. I thought maybe I could take her overnight.” Jughead’s running behind on sleep himself, but the lack of job helps take some pressure off the day. If Sweet Pea was around, he knew this is one of the days Betty would have called him for help.

Betty smiles. “I think I should be ok. About twenty minutes ago I brought the Bug onto the bed with me. She seems to sleep so much better beside me. It makes me nervous, because I don’t have a railing, but it’s just for tonight.”

Jughead’s not surprised that the Bug would sleep better next to Betty, there’s something about her presence that’s innately comforting, but it doesn’t sound that safe.

“Is there anything that you could put on the other side of the bed to make it safer?” Jughead asks.

“Nothing that would help. She’s not as fragile as she once was though.”

“Could I sleep on the other side?” He feels presumptuous asking that, and awkward. But he does think he would feel better if the Bug had people on either side of her.

“Do you roll in your sleep?” Betty asks, she seems to be genuinely considering his offer.

“No,” Jughead says. He hasn’t slept with people in a long time, but he does regularly fall asleep with books on his chest, and he wakes up with them still there, not having moved for however long he slept, so he’s pretty confident that he won’t accidentally crush the Bug.

“Ok,” Betty says, though she looks a little nervous. 

He follows her into her bedroom. The Bugs in the middle of the bed in a sleep sack. Her cheek is pressed against the mattress and her butt is up in the air. It looks adorable and uncomfortable. 

Betty gets in bed first and then once she’s lying down facing the Bug, Jughead gets in on the other side, careful not to make the mattress move. Even the slight shift in weight, causes the Bug to stir then to settle. 

Even though the circumstance is strange, as soon as Jughead’s cheek hits the pillow, he falls asleep. 

In the morning, he wakes to the sound of Betty’s alarm clock. He opens his eyes and looks into the Bugs sleeping face, her eyelashes long and thick against her olive skin. 

He feels a deep and abiding peace, even though it’s early in the morning, and his brain still feels heavy with sleep. He’s not used to feeling such peace. He wonders if it’s a byproduct of sleeping with the baby or it’s because Betty’s mattress is better than his. 

Then Jughead notices how warm his hand is, how stiff it feels. That in and of itself is strange. Jughead’s hand almost never falls asleep when he does, yet it feels that way now. He adjusts himself so that he can see his hand. 

That’s how he discovers that his fingers are cupped around Bettys. Her hand is firmly cradled in his. Both their hands are above the Bug’s head on the mattress as if creating a make shift crib. 

The alarm continues to trill happily, but she’s still asleep. Jughead’s relived for that. He removes his hand carefully from hers. He’s surprised by the twinge of loss he feels as he moves his hand away.

Jughead gets out of bed cautiously, then walks to the other side, and wakes her up with a gentle shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am always so thankful for feedback!


	5. Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to KittiLee for catching errors, logistical and otherwise. She's the best!
> 
> This chapter feels very long to me, and I'm going to be honest, it was a bit of a battle to write, but an important one, in a lots of ways!

When Jughead had woken Betty, she’d been groggy. Her eyes opening and closing a few times before staying open. 

“Did my alarm go off?” she asks.

“Yes. I turned it off before it could wake the baby.” Junebug is still asleep beside Betty, her left arm raised, her hand clenched in a fist, her body clothed in a blue sleep sack. Betty presses a kiss to Junebugs cheek before sitting up.

“Good. I’ve got to get ready for school. You packed already?” When Jughead shakes his head, no, she says, “You still have time. My stuff is already packed so we can leave straight after work.”

As Jughead leaves the room, it strikes him that she acts as if nothing had happened last night, because for her it didn’t. She never knew that his hand had held hers. He tried to reassure himself that hand holding meant nothing in the scheme of things.

Usually Jughead would go back to bed, but he feels rested and alert, if a bit on edge. He feels a little as if someone had shuffled through his internal thought process and re-shuffled his priorities.

Normally at this time of day his sole focus would be on obtaining coffee, today his mind was filled with one person.

Jughead can still remember how nice it was to wake up with Betty before he realized what was going on. Evidently, his subconscious self had started to think of her as more than a friend. Now it was just up to him to make sure his conscious self kept his hands to himself.

Distracted by thoughts of warm hands, he jams three pairs of wool socks, a couple of his nicer t-shits in with the flannels. He’s never been one to travel, so he’s never built up any packing experience. At the last minute, he desides to pack Jellybean’s journals, just in case. 

Betty meets him in the kitchen. There are two floral overnight bags resting at the base of the table, one for her, and one for the Bug presumably.

While Betty scrambles the eggs, she speculates about where they might stop for dinner. When she butters the toast she asks Jughead where he booked a hotel room. 

He has a hard time paying attention to what she’s saying and instead of answering he smiles and nods, till Betty says, “I think you really need this”, and hands him a mug of coffee to go with the food already cooling on the plate in front of him.

By the time he’s consumed most of the coffee, he feels more like himself. Only then does he realize that he’s drinking coffee from a novelty mug with the words “A book lover never sleeps alone” printed on the side. 

All in all, it’s a very un-auspicious start to the day, although Jughead’s not exactly sure why. Considering they were sleeping in the same bed last night, things could have gone a lot worse. 

But even once he’s fully awake, he feels off. He thinks part of it must be the fact that he knows they held hands in their sleep and Betty doesn’t. Yet the very thought of sharing this fact with her makes his toe tap nervously against the floor. It would be awkward, to admit to doing something he didn’t mean to do.

Betty leaves for work. When the door slams shut behind her Junebug wake up, groggy and howling.

Jughead gives her a dose of the antibiotics, which are pepto bismol pink, before taking her on a neighborhood walk. 

Now that she’s bigger and more alert he’s taken to plopping her in the stroller and pushing her around the block while talking about everything they pass, the little yappy dogs and the house with the orange door. She seems to like this time, sometimes pointing with her arm, although never at anything in particular. 

The day passes quickly. Quicker than usual Betty’s back, an exhausted look on her face and a pile of ungraded papers in her arms. 

Jughead transfers their luggage to her car and they get on the road right away. Junebug is happy in the car for once, playing with a teether disguised as a ring of keys after drinking a full bottle of formula. Betty’s driving, her hands a steady two and ten on the wheel. 

“You really didn’t have Thanksgiving plans?” Jughead asks.

“No, Jelly and I never really celebrated it. We made a big deal out of Christmas though. We always got a blue spruce, and we made an ornament each year and gifted it to each other. I even made my grandma’s notorious fruit salad, which involved canned fruit cocktail and whipped cream. Jelly loved it for some reason.”

Betty’s eyes are focused on the road and her expression doesn’t seem sad, but Jughead can’t help but feel sadness for her. When she told him information like that it was clear how much Jelly was her family, really. 

Jughead understands why, based on the little he knows about her family. But still it’s unexpected, Betty’s easy to get along with, she should have tons of friends.

At the funeral he saw her interact with coworkers enough to know that Betty’s well liked, and Tina always speaks fondly of her. But their friendships seem like a whole different tier than the one Jelly and she had. 

Jughead has always been a one friend person. Archie was his first phone call, had been for a long time, even if he never would have admitted that when Jellybean was alive. 

Just thinking about Archie reminds Jughead of a huge oversight on his part. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Betty asks her eyes still mostly focused on the road “Did you forget something at home?”

“No, or at least I don’t know if I did yet. I forgot to tell you something, and I really should of earlier.”

“What?”

“My best friend Archie and his fiancé Veronica are coming for Christmas. I really should have said something. Or asked permission. They could stay in a hotel even....”. Jughead’s worried that he’s really screwed up this time. After all that they have talked about in terms of open communication, he still hadn’t told her this.

They are in such a better place now than they were. They are actually becoming friends for reasons other than circumstances. 

Betty smiles, “Don’t worry about it. It will be good to have more people around for Junebug’s first Christmas. Besides, it will be good to meet your friends.”

Jughead’s grateful that she’s forgiven his memory slip so easily, but it’s a good reminder of how important open communication is between them, how this is what makes it possible for them to be the kind of parents their own parents weren’t.

“I wonder why Jellybean never told me Gladys was dead,” Jughead blurts out. He’d been thinking about this a lot, but it was still hard to talk about. Everytime he looked into Jelly’s life he found out something new, something that didn’t add up. 

The fact that she hadn’t told him about Gladys hurt more than her other lies of omission, because she had told Betty. Even though her confession to Betty was a drunken outburst. Gladys was his mother too, he had a right to know. Even though Gladys was his mother too. 

“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could,” Betty says. 

“Did she tell you that?” 

“No, but she told me that’s why she never told you Sweet Pea was a Serpent. She said you’d be mad at her.”

Jughead’s never thought there was much point in being mad at the dead, but if he’d found out about Sweet Pea’s affiliations while Jelly was alive he probably would have been furious. 

“Maybe, but not for long,” Jughead says. “I do wonder how she found out Gladys was dead. Unless she was friends with Dr. Curdle.”

Betty shakes her head. “She and Billy never met. There must be other ways. I suspect she traveled to Toledo to find out. Maybe she approached the coroner in person?”

“Are we going to have to do that?” Jughead says, only now is he figuring out that he doesn’t exactly know what they are going to do in Toledo. He knows he needed to go there for it to feel real, but Gladys died a long time ago, even if he is just figuring out about it now. This is in every way a cold case.

“Yes.” Betty says. “Billy told me what to say. It’s still the same coroner who examined her body all those years ago.”

“What else will we do there?”

“Go to where her body was found. Dig through the public records and see what used to be nearby. That sort of thing.”

“So just normal sightseeing.” 

Betty laughs. “You have the same sense of humor as Jelly you know.”

“You mean she had the same sense of humor as I do. I’m the older one.”

“Well you didn’t inherit it from FP, that’s for sure.” 

That is true, FP has always been good humored for a criminal, but he’s never been funny in the sarcastic, awkward way Jelly and Jughead were. Gladys wasn’t like that either. So who knows where it came from.

Junebug starts howling then, tiny fists clenched. Betty pulls over so Jughead can switch to the back and feed her. That doesn’t make her much happier, she keeps pawing at the bottle, but over time she does manage to ingest some calories. 

It’s dark by the time they stop at a dinner for dinner, but even though they eat quickly they arrive in Toledo after midnight.

The city itself is bigger than Jughead imagined, more sprawly and disorganized. 

Junebug’s sleeping again, thankfully, but she’s been intensely fussy on and off during the ride. Traveling with a sick baby is no easy feat.

It’s so dark out that even with the help of street lights, it’s hard to get a feel for what the buildings really look like, but everything seems run down. 

“Where are you staying again?” Betty asks. The address of her hotel is their end location on her GPS. She’d offered to book for both of them, but at the time Jughead had thought it would be cheaper to do it himself, as his standards for hotels were probably lower than Betty’s. He hadn’t actually gotten around to booking one though. 

Jughead shrugs, “I hadn’t booked anywhere. I just figured I’d get in a room in the same hotel you were in.” 

Betty shakes her head. “Jug, it’s Thanksgiving weekend. I doubt they’ll have an empty room now. We only have one car.”

“I’m sure there will be a hotel with a room nearby,” Jughead says, although he finds out when Betty checks in that his confidence was misplaced. Not only is Betty’s perfectly decent hotel completely booked, but the three hotels within walking distance, all sketchy to begin with, are full as well. 

“Shit,” he says. The hotel employee averts their eyes as if that will prevent them from overhearing what might well be a very awkward conversation.

“You can stay with me,” Betty says, picking up the Bug’s car seat. “But I’ve got to warn you, there’s only one bed.”

Jughead swears the desk clerk laughs. 

Internally Jughead is swearing at himself. Externally he says, “It’s not like we’ve never shared one before.” He says it quietly though, the clerk has already heard too much. 

This time there is no baby between them. Betty had the foresight to bring the pack and play. The good news is that Jughead is too tired to feel awkward and when he wakes up, he’s not holding anyone's hand. Betty’s back is to his. 

They eat breakfast at the hotel and then drive to were Gladys’s body was found. All the buildings around are old and decrepit. There’s no one around because it’s Thanksgiving. It feels a little like they’ve traveled to a ghost town. 

After all these years there are no clues left. In fact, even using the police photos as a guide it’s hard to figure out exactly where Gladys’s body was found. They settle on it being somewhere near an upholstery repair shop,

Then they head to the hotel Gladys was staying when she died. It’s five miles away from where her body was found, so an easy drive but a not so easy walk. This part of town is filled with overflowing dumpsters and shot out windows. 

By the time they see the Aloha Motel’s sign (although the A’s have been punched out so that it just says loh Motel), Jughead wishes they hadn’t come. It’s depressing to think of his mother ending up here, it feels like a few steps down from Sunnyside. 

The hotel is no longer in operation the windows and doors are boarded up. On the side someone has graffitied Death Trap/ Drug Trap, in neon green. They don’t even stop the car. 

On the way back to their hotel, Jughead sees hints of families preparing for the holidays. One house they pass has huge windows showing the kitchen, full of older ladies in aprons. Another house has a porch occupied with men drinking beer and watching kids play with leaves in the front yard.

Even though Junebug’s in the car seat beside him, and Betty’s driving, Jughead’s never felt more alone and out of place. 

That’s when Jughead notices that Betty’s crying silently as she drives. Tears running down the side of her face, the side that he can see. 

This isn’t just hard on him, it’s hard on her as well. Seeing these happy families with their normal lives. 

Even though Jughead is sleeping in Jellybean’s bed back in Riverdale it’s easy for him to forget that she lived there, because he never actually saw her in that house, she was someone he thought about often but saw rarely. 

For Betty, it wasn’t like that at all. That had once been their house, hers and Jelly’s, the one they were raising a child in together. 

“Are you Ok?” Jughead asks as Betty wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. 

“Of course.” 

“You’re allowed to not be ok.” Jughead might not know Betty that well, but he’s figured out that she’s much better at taking care of others than taking care of herself. He wants that not to be the case. He wants to help her make that not the case. 

He reaches forward and squeezes her shoulder gently. He wishes he could somehow convey how much he cares for her in that squeeze. Betty isn’t alone, he might not be Jelly, but he does think that he’s becoming Betty’s family. He knows she’s becoming his. Even before he woke up holding her hand, she and Junebug are the first thing he thinks of every morning. 

Jughead withdraws his hand and whispers “The Bug and I are here with you.” Even though it’s an obvious statement to make, he hopes it will make it clear how not alone she is.

Betty keeps driving and by the time they return to the hotel there’s no sign that she ever cried. Soon after they get back to the room, Betty goes to the gym, and then returns an hour later, sweaty, but with a smile on her face.

There’s nothing much to do today. Tomorrow they will be busy since both the coroner’s office and the library will be open. But for right now, everything is closed. It’s a quiet day, there’s not much to do besides watch bad TV and play with the baby. 

Their normal life is so busy that it actually feels kind of peaceful to just spend time with the Bug and without chores. They banter a little and read on and off.

Jughead is playing peek-a-boo with the Bug when he smells something awful. Betty’s reading her kindle on the only chair in the room. She doesn’t seem to notice the smell, so it must be localized. 

Jughead leans towards the Bug. He regrets it. He goes to look closer and can see that there’s poop leaking out of the onsie. 

“Yuck!” His exclamation gets Betty’s attention and she walks over, pinching her nose dramatically when she gets closer. 

“Shit,” Betty says, picking up the Bug awkwardly by the armpits, careful not to touch her bottom. She hauls the Bug to the bathroom. Jughead follows. 

Betty strips the Bug down to her skin and sets her in the tub. All the soiled clothing goes in the sink, and the leaky diaper goes into a plastic bag Betty ties tightly. 

Junebug is surprisingly quiet about all this, till Betty sets her down in the empty tub and goes to wash her hands. 

Junebug wails the minute Betty turns her back and Jughead’s attempts at peek-a-boo no longer amuse. The Bugs definitely upset. She only gets more angry when Betty gets Jughead to hold the Bug in a sitting position while Betty sprays the Bug down with the movable shower-head.

By the time Betty stops, Junebug is red in the face. The towel helps and then Betty takes the Bug into her arms and rocks her. 

Jughead admires how intuitively Betty takes care of the Bug. He can’t help but say, “You are so good with her.”

“You are too,” Betty says. “You’ve come a long way since you first met her.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. I’d never given her a bath before now.”

“You can, you know. At home we actually have a baby tub that she doesn’t hate. But you would have figured it out if I wasn’t here.”

“I’d probably just use a shit ton of wipes.” Jughead says with a shrug. Betty laughs loudly. 

They order a lot of Chinese food and then Betty takes a shower because she claims she still feels dirty from earlier. 

While Betty’s in the shower, Jughead calls Archie on Skype. If he was back in Chicago he would have spent today with Archie, Veronica, Fred, and Mary, also eating Chinese food, because none of them really cooked. 

Archie picks up right away, a grinning Veronica right behind him.

“You have the baby!” Veronica says, sounding thrilled! “Hi Junebug!”

Junebug’s indifferent in Jughead’s arms. She doesn’t seem to care that anyone’s waving at her through the phone screen.

“She’s cute, I guess,” Archie says. 

“Don’t listen to him, she’s beautiful.” Veronica swats at Archie playfully. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

Jughead tells them about Gladys, rephrasing the story in a way that leaves out the fact they’re investigating Jellybean’s death. Instead he makes it sound like the Toledo coroner approached them with the cold case. 

“That’s crazy,” Archie says over and over again. 

“I know,” Jughead says, just grateful they aren’t prying more. “Betty came with me.””

“Why?” 

“For support,” Jughead says, surprised to see a sour look cross Archie’s face. Jughead doesn’t know why that fact seems to upset him. Before he can ask about it, Jughead gets a text from the delivery app telling him that the food is a minute away. 

Jughead says a quick goodbye and Veronica blows a kiss to Junebug. Jughead picks up the food in the lobby with the Bug and by the time he’s back in the room Betty’s out of the shower in her PJ’s. She looks cozy and relaxed which is rare.

They eat on the bed, Junebug fussing a bit, and refusing her bottle.

“When we get home we can start feeding her scrambled eggs and pureed food,” Betty says, while picking up an egg roll.

“I’m so ready for that,” Jughead says. He’s actually looking forward to the Bug trying things for the first time. It seems exciting, or at least it will be once she gets teeth. He hasn’t seen signs of them yet. 

“Her poop will be even worse apparently.” 

“Betts, I’m eating!” Jughead protests in an exaggerated way.

The Bug goes to sleep soon after taking another dose of her medicine. Jughead can’t see any signs of the earache now, but it’s important to use up all the antibiotics. They can’t stop giving them to her just because the symptoms have stopped. 

All in all, it’s a surprisingly good day. The next day doesn’t go half as well. It starts with Jughead discovering that his hand is curled around Betty’s hip. Thankfully he wakes first. By the time Betty gets up he’s already returned to the room with coffee.

After breakfast they head to the coroner's office, which is relegated to the dark corner of a police station. It doesn’t look like it’s been swept in years. 

The coroner is an older guy with a gray beard who introduces himself as Dr. Evenston. He seems skeptical of Betty and Jughead, and Jughead gets that, after all who comes to the coroner's office on official business with a baby. 

Dr Evenston reviews Dr. Curdle Junior’s (or Billy as Betty refers to him) notes and then sighs. “You’ve already seen the file, what more do you want to know?”

“Is there anything you didn’t put in the file?” Betty asks.

Dr. Evenston shakes his head, “Even if there was something it was too long ago to remember?”

“Did anyone else come here asking about this Jane Doe?”

“Sure. Often other law enforcement agencies contact us about Jane and John Does hoping the corpse’s details match one of their missing persons cases.”

“What about other people like us?” Jughead asks. He’s not sure exactly what he means by that because he’s pretty sure that there are not a lot of amateur detectives trying to track down dead bodies out there.

Dr. Evenston shrugs. “Law enforcement only. But that doesn’t mean someone else didn’t contact the cop in charge of this case, Tod Lee. He has all the same information I do.”

“Can we talk to him?” Betty asks.

“I don’t know if he’s in or not. Check upstairs.”

“Where was the body buried?” Jughead asks, although he knows it’s possible Gladys wasn’t buried at all. Nowadays it is more common to cremate unclaimed corpses. He hopes that didn’t happen

“At Calvary Cemetery,” Dr. Evenston says. “There’s no headstone or anything, but there’s a part of the cemetery that was set aside for the unclaimed dead. They call it the Potters Graveyard. It’s all filled up now.

Jughead feels a prickle of dread, followed by a spike of familiarity. He knows the name Calvary Cemetery, but from where?

They head upstairs where the receptionist desperately wants to hold the Bug and a lot of the cops passing thru the waiting room smile at her. The police chief even sticks out his tongue. 

After an hour of waiting, Detective Lee comes out and walks them back to his desk. He’s a lot friendlier than Dr. Evenston but even more evasive. When they show him a picture of Jelly he refuses to admit if he ever talked to her, but Jughead swears he saw a glint of recognition in his eyes. 

The library is still closed for the holiday, and Betty’s not sure if it’s worth waiting around for it to open on Saturday. She has a lot of papers to grade and she’d prefer to be home before Sunday, which would require them to leave first thing tomorrow. 

Their next stop is the cemetery. The sun is shining brightly, but the bite in the air is considerable. Betty dresses the Bug in a puffy too large winter jacket and presses three kisses to the crown of her head before they enter the cemetery. 

They stop in the office first were a lady in her fifties wearing a beret, redirects them towards the back of the graveyard. It’s half a mile walk and Jughead wishes he brought a warmer coat.

Betty looks cozy though, a soft blue scarf tucked around her neck. She’s pushing the Bug in her jogging stroller. Betty’s hands are clad in leather gloves, Jughead has to stuff his in his pocket. 

Jughead’s not really sure why they’re here. It doesn’t seem like visiting the Potter’s Graveyard will help them solve the mystery of Gladys’s death in any way, but it seems wrong to not pursue any of their leads, no matter how weak. It’s not like they have much to go on. 

Besides he has this lingering feeling of familiarity around the name of the cemetery and he can’t remember why. It’s really bothering him. 

Potter’s Graveyard, where all the unclaimed poor are buried, or rather were buried, is marked by just one stone that says, R.I.P. and nothing else. There’s a few bare trees in the area, and some scattered fake flowers. There are no clues. Not even a potential red herring. 

Even though he’s standing near where his mother is buried, it still doesn’t feel real. He keeps waiting to feel a deeper emotion, but instead all he feels is cold. 

When they re-enter the car Jughead’s hands are tingling from the cold. Betty’s changing a diaper in the back before putting Junebug in the car seat when her phone rings.

“Can you answer it?” Betty asks. The phone itself is lying on the dashboard. 

Jughead sees that the caller ID is Sweet Pea. He answers it with a gruff “Hello.”

“Who is this?” Sweet Pea says on the other end of the line.

“Jughead.” 

“Of course. I should have figured you’d be the one picking up Betty’s phone. For a minute I hoped she was out on a date with someone.”

Jughead loathes that idea. It had never actually occurred to him before. This idea that even now Betty could try and find someone new, but why couldn’t she? She was single. Still Jughead’s tone is a little harsh when he says “No. Why’d you call?” 

“I got back a day early and wondered if I could see Junebug tonight? She’s feeling better right?”

Damnit. Jughead was not sure what he could or should say to Sweet Pea about the situation. Obviously they couldn’t pretend to be in Riverdale at this point, but then again Toledo’s hardly a big tourist attraction. 

“The Bugs feeling better, but we’re actually in Toledo visiting an aunt of mine,” Jughead says, hoping the lie will work. 

“Oh, how’s Aunt Margaret doing?” Sweet Pea asks, there’s nothing in his voice that suggests it’s anything more than a casual question. Still Jughead’s completely unaware of any aunts, in Toledo or elsewhere. Jughead wonders where that name could have possibly come from. 

Then it hits him. Of course. Aunt Margaret is someone Jellybean made up to have an excuse to visit Toledo in search of Gladys.

“She’s fine.” Jughead spits out, knowing he waited a bit too long, so he piles on more lies to cover for the delay, “She loved meeting Junebug.”

This time it’s Sweet Pea that pauses for a little too long on the other end of the line before saying, “Are you staying with her?”

“No. We’re staying at the Iris Inn. It seemed easier.” 

“When will you be back?” 

“Saturday, late.”

“Can I come for brunch on Sunday?” 

“Sure,” Jughead says. He’ll say anything to get off the phone now. Betty’s long finished changing the diaper. The Bugs in the car seat now and Betty’s staring at him with one raised eyebrow. “I’ve got to go.” 

“Hug the Bug for me.” Sweet Pea says, his voice soft. Jughead can’t deny Pea that and so he says he will before hanging up.

Betty drives while Jughead repeats the conversation as verbatim as he can remember it. He keeps trying not to read too much into Sweet Pea’s extended pause, but he can’t help but think about it. Even though Betty tells him not to worry.

They return to the site Glady’s body was found. A few of the businesses are open now, but none of the people working there remember the body. It was almost two decade ago now, so Jughead doesn’t blame them. 

Still when they leave the last place, a mechanics garage, Jughead feels like they came all this way on a wild goose chase. His mother is dead, visiting the place where her body was found told him nothing he didn’t already know.

Jughead’s feeling out of it as he slips into the back seat after buckling Junebug into her car seat. Jughead wishes she didn’t have to spend so much time in it during this trip.

As Betty buckles her seat belt, Jughead takes one more glance back at the garage. That’s when he spots the motorcycle across the street, a man clad in black.sitting on it. Jughead can see that he’s wearing a leather jacket, but no patches are visible from the front.

Betty starts the car and Jughead notices that the motorbike starts up fifteen seconds after they do. He dismisses it as a coincidence, but twenty minutes later, when it’s still behind them, he suspects that it is more than that.

He tells Betty to turn left at the next intersection. She glances back at him and asks, “Why?”

“I think someone’s following us.”

Betty doesn’t say anything, but she bites her lower lip, and turns the car quickly. Behind them the motorcycle turns too. 

“Fuck,” Jughead mutters.

If he had any doubts, they’re gone now. 

“Do you think he’s a Serpent?” Betty asks. 

“Probably. When you park at the hotel maybe we’ll get a chance to see his patch.”

A block from the hotel, the motorcyclist stops. Probably to prevent them from getting a good look at him. In any case it’s a pretty clear indicator that their tail knows where they are staying. Instead of heading towards the hotel, Betty turns left at the corner.

Jughead’s about to ask her what she’s doing when she turns left again and he figures it out. She’s going around the block. She’s trying to see the back of the jacket. 

Their tail must have figured it out too because his bike’s going when they turn the corner, but he’s still close enough that they can see the distinct green snake on his back. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jughead says. This jacket has the word Toledo on it, but in every other way it’s familiar. The motorcyclist zooms out of sight. But just seeing him has left Jug feeling shaky and vulnerable.

“The Toledo Serpents have to be the ones that killed Gladys. Otherwise why would they be following us?” Betty says, while they’re eating pizza in bed. The Bugs on Betty’s lap, leaning against her cozily. 

“They killed her or were in on it in some way for sure,” Jughead says with a shrug. “But how did they even find us?”

“Maybe someone at the police station told the Serpents. Detective Lee seemed like he was covering for something. Unless Pea tipped them off?”

“Fuck,” Jughead says, balling his hand into a fist. He’d made a stupid mistake. It put them all at risk. 

“Do you think he knew what he did?”

“How could he not?”

“He can be pretty clueless,” Betty says with a shrug. “He always had to ask me if Jelly was mad at him, and she was never exactly subtle about it.”

Jughead laughs in spite of himself, in spite of the situation. Then he remembers that Jelly mentioned something along those lines in her journal. It was just a throw away, but it confirms Betty’s position. 

More than that though, it jogs Jughead’s memory. “Shit,” he says, abandoning a half eaten slice of meat lovers on his plate and diving for his bag. He rips through the contents till he gets to Jelly’s journals. He finds the right one easily and pages through it. 

There, scrawled on the side of an otherwise completely ordinary update (work, gym, Betty) are the words Calvary Cemetery. It was a clue, maybe not an intentional one, but a clue none the less. 

Jughead shows Betty, who abandons her own slice of pineapple pizza to look through the journal with him for more scrawled words. He’d written them down somewhere a while ago, but he’d lost that list a while back. 

The other two notes in this journal are less helpful. Toni with a question mark, seems too vague to be helpful and Betty laughs at the Revolutionary B.O.B. note which Jughead thought was more promising.

“It’s the name of the jogging stroller Jughead. Didn’t you know?” Betty says, as if he was the kind of person who kept track of brand names. 

Junebug starts to fuss and Jughead manages to get her to sleep. They eat the rest of the pizza quietly while skimming through the journals. They end up with a list of thirty or so words, some of which Jughead thinks are promising and others not.

Betty packs before they go to sleep so they can leave first thing in the morning. It’s funny but over the last couple of nights Jughead has somehow gotten used to sharing a bed with Betty. He doesn’t say anything, but he thinks he falls asleep faster with her at his side. 

Maybe he’s too comfortable, because he wakes up to the word shit being repeated three times over in a very unBetty-like fashion. He feels her body shift against his and then pull away. 

Jughead has a strong sense of self preservation and he keeps his eyes closed. He feels Betty get off the bed. 

He feels awful. He didn’t mean to spoon her in the night, but he must have unintentionally. He can’t help but wonder if that’s why he slept so well

When he gets out of bed, Betty doesn’t bring it up but she is slow to make eye contact with him. After a quick breakfast, they leave the hotel. 

It’s impossible not to notice the bike following them out of town. Only at the city limits of Toledo does the bike peel off on an exit and leave them alone. 

It’s a long drive back, and they take turns driving. Betty seems preoccupied at first, but as they get closer to Riverdale she seems happier, asking him thoughtful questions about his favorite books and what Jelly was like as a child. 

They stop for lunch at a busy dinner, where they are the only people there under sixty and the baby attracts a lot of attention. Lots of gray haired men and women stop by their booth the admire the baby. 

While Jughead’s finishing his pie an older couple drop by. There is something about them that is charming, the husband wears a fedora and the wife has a button on her bag that says Jesus not Guns. The women smiles at them and says “You are such a cute family.”

Neither of them correct the women. Jughead doesn’t say anything because his immediate reaction to the sentence is a desire for it to be true. In fact he spends most of the drive home focused on the road and thoughts of what it would actually be like to be a family. Betty is also silent.

They arrive home stiff from the journey, Junebug rolls a lot on the floor when they get in, having built up too much energy in the car. 

Betty’s just heating up soup on the stove when the doorbell rings. Jughead opens it expecting Sweet Pea, but instead it’s Sheriff Minetta, his eyes cold and flashing. 

Jughead talked to him briefly soon after he came into town. The sheriff had been quick to dismiss Jughead’s concerns about his sister’s death. Jughead wonders what on earth the man could be doing here now. 

“Can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you and Ms. Cooper about.” 

Jughead doesn’t want to allow Minetta in. The man was clearly bad news. Quick to dismiss their concerns as well as the CSI’s. But Jughead doesn’t think he has a choice in the matter, so he gestures Minetta in. 

Jughead wonders at the timing of all this as he leads Minetta towards Betty and the kitchen. There are rumors that Minetta’s working on behalf of the Serpents, the timing of all this might confirm that, depending on what the Sheriff has to say. 

Betty already has their soup in bowls on the table. Junebug’s resting on one of her hips as she sways to an old Bruce Springsteen song playing quietly on the radio. It’s the picture of domesticity, and Jughead hates that it’s about to be interrupted. 

Betty’s facing away from them, she doesn’t see them enter, so he has to clear is throat and say “Betty, the sheriff's here to see us.”

She turns, her cheeks a little flushed from the dancing probably.

“Hello Sheriff Minetta.” 

Jughead’s never heard Betty say anything in a tone that icy, except when she was mad at him. The Sheriff doesn’t react though, just gives a sharp nod and says, “I heard you two were in Toledo.”

“We were,” Jughead says. “Visiting my aunt for the holidays. I hardly think that’s a matter that involves law enforcement.”

“It doesn’t usually.” The sheriff says, his eyes focusing in on Jughead. “But I’ve heard some rumors about you. You killed a man.”

Jughead can tell the sheriffs trying to intentionally anger him, but still his strategy is effective. Jughead feels his temper, which he keeps restrained these days, uncoil a little. He doesn’t get a chance to say anything, rash or otherwise, because Betty’s suddenly between them, forcing the Sheriff to break eye contact.

“We all know that’s not true,” Betty says. 

The sheriff is startled, but only for a moment. He has a smile on his face when he says, “I could make it look true.”

Jughead’s mouth feels dry, Betty’s lips move as if she’s going to say something, but nothing comes out. On Betty’s hip Junebug starts to cry.

The sheriff nods before exiting. Jughead wishes he felt relief at the sound of the door shutting behind Minetta. He does not. 

They eat in silence, Jughead helping himself to seconds and then thirds to calm his nerves. Jughead wishes he could dismiss the Sheriff’s threat out of hand, but he knows better. This is the Serpents way of making it clear that they own Riverdale, and that as long as Jughead and Betty are here, they own them too. 

Jughead hates every part of this, but it doesn’t make it less true. Even if the Serpents didn’t kill Jelly, their hands are all over covering it up. Not for the first time does Jughead wonder how Sweet Pea figures into all this. Did he knowingly play a roll in Jelly’s death? Was he actually a good actor?

Betty puts the Bug to bed, Jughead tries to zone out to the TV but finds himself pacing instead, the energy in his body eager to get out. 

When Betty gets back, he’s circling the living room like an animal or a fool. She stops him, with a gentle press of her hand to his back. She wraps her arms around him. 

Betty’s so much smaller than him that it shouldn’t feel as comforting as it does. He feels safe for the first time since he spotted their tail in Toledo. 

“This is bad news, Betty.” He whispers as if that’s something she doesn’t already knows.

“Not all of it,” Betty says. “If they’re this scared, we must be close to something. We just have to figure out what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback and kind words! I always love hearing your reactions! I'm pretty excited/nervous for next chapter!


	6. Unexpected Facts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to KittiLee who helped in so many ways with this chapter! 
> 
> Also the alternative title for this chapter was - Finally some answers.
> 
> I updated the tags slightly.

Sweet Pea’s on his seventh pancake, and so is Jughead. It feels like a competition between them, even though neither have voiced that opinion out loud.

Betty’s not participating. After eating two blueberry pancakes with minimal syrup, she scrambled an egg for Junebug. Junebug’s sitting in her highchair looking pleased as punch, cold egg all over her face and bib. The text on her bib is obscured by egg. It’s her first real food and she seems to be taking to it. 

Across the table, Sweet Pea finishes his seventh pancake and reaches for another. Jughead eats two more bites and does the same. He doesn’t dare add butter or maple syrup this time though. He’s trying to save any extra space in his stomach for pancake.

Sweet Pea might be a tough guy with a pen knife and a leather jacket with a gang patch, but when it comes to food Jughead is confident in his ability to consume more. Sweet Pea might think he’s tougher, and maybe in other ways, he is, but not in this one. 

If this is Sweet Pea’s version of the intimidation game, Sweet Pea is going to lose. 

Last night, Jughead and Betty had stayed up late and talked about Sheriff Minetta, or rather the threat he made and what they should do about it. 

Jughead wanted to back away. It seemed foolish to keep pursuing a case that already had a body count attached to it. They needed to stay safe for Junebug’s sake. Betty thought that Junebug wouldn’t really be safe unless they solved this case. 

It was a civil argument in the scheme of things. No one yelled. But Jughead didn’t sleep well and based on Betty’s tired looking face he’s betting neither did she.

Instead of sleeping in or debating it even more in the morning, they had to rush around the house cooking for Sweet Pea, who neither of them trusted any more. 

Jughead’s taking bigger breaks between bites, but not as many as Sweet Pea. The other man’s staring at his plate as if the half a pancake that remains there is in fact his enemy. This gives Jughead the energy to finish the last few bites of his own and place another on his plate. 

“Fine.” Sweet Pea groans, pushing the plate away “You made your point.” Although Jughead’s not really sure what point that would be, besides the fact that he’s got the larger stomach. In any case, it feels good to be victorious.

“The Bug loves eggs,” Betty declares, always knowing when and how to change the subject. 

Jughead looks over at his niece, notices the speckle of yellow above her eyebrow and takes another bite of his pancake, more out of habit than anything else. 

Sweet Pea leans back in his chair, attention now focused on his daughter. “She’s really grown, hasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Jughead says. “You should see how good she’s at sitting up now. I think standing is not that far off.”

“At least another couple months,” Betty says as the Bug bats the spoon in Betty’s hand away.

“I heard the Sheriff dropped by,” Sweet Pea says

“He did,” Jughead answers. The pieces clicking into place in his brain. If Sweet Pea knows, Minetta had to have told the Serpents, or just as likely it was the Serpents that told Minetta to visit in the first place. 

In either case it’s a big fucking deal that the local motorcycle gang has direct ties to the sheriff. It makes the investigation even more risky than Jughead thought it would be. 

“You’re going to listen to his advice and stop investigating right?” 

Jughead says “Yes” as quickly as he possibly can. 

“Good. Gladys died a long time ago. There’s no need to avenge her now.”

Betty looks so giddy with happiness at that remark that Jughead couldn’t be more grateful that Sweet Pea is focused on watching Jughead’s expression, which he’s managed to keep studiously neutral. 

If Minetta’s threats were about Gladys, they’re in the clear. The same person or persons was probably involved in both deaths, but they should be able to focus on the Jellybean end of things without drawing any more attention to themselves.

Still Jughead tries to sound at least a little frustrated when he says, “We are not going anywhere near Glady’s death.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Sweet Pea pauses for a second, smiles at Betty and then says, “So what does the Bug get to try next?”

Jughead’s glad for the change of subject. It’s hard to hide how relieved he is by the news, or rather the clarification. He’s less excited by the fact that mashed banana is next up for the Bug.

“When does she get to try burgers?” Sweet Pea asks.

“Around nine months.” Betty says “But we will see how it goes. Introducing food can be complicated.”

“What about milkshakes?” Jughead asks

“Not till she’s at least one. There’s way too much sugar in those things. They’re terrible for you.”

“Is that why you drink two a week?” Jughead teases. Betty sticks out her tongue in retaliation. For a moment his heart feels light, full of joy.

“Stop behaving like children,” Sweet Pea says with an eye roll.

“Stop being a Sour Pea.” As soon as he says that sentence, Jughead is shocked to see the shift in Sweet Pea and Betty’s demeanor. 

Betty bites her lips and Sweet Pea pushes his chair back with a squeal and says, “I’ve got to go.” 

“What did I do wrong?” Jughead asks once the door slams behind Sweet Pea.

“Nothing really,” Betty says. “Or rather, nothing intentional. You’re just so much like Jelly sometimes. That was her nickname for him.”

Betty presses a kiss against Junebugs cheek and then starts washing dishes in the sink.  
Jughead feels bad that he upset them, but after so many weeks of wondering what Jelly was actually like, it’s reassuring to feel a tangible connection to her. 

“At least we can go full steam ahead with the case,” Betty says. “Maybe their deaths weren’t related after all.”

“Maybe,” Jughead says, although even if they aren’t, his dad probably played a role in his mom’s death. Jughead can’t imagine having an easygoing conversation with him about that on the phone now. 

“We just have to make sure to stay clear of anything linked to Gladys,” Betty says. Jughead suspects it’s easier said than done. 

The first week after Thanksgiving, Jughead doesn’t pick up the phone when his dad calls, Betty’s bogged down with grading, and they don’t make any progress on the case. Betty shrugs it off on their Saturday afternoon Sweetwater walk. “It’s just a week Jug.” 

The Bug looks so sweet in the baby carrier, pressed against her chest that Jughead struggles to resist the temptation to hug them both, even though it’s less dangerous than the temptation he felt the night before to kiss her on the couch While they watched Stranger Things. 

The next week, when they’ve still made no progress, it’s Betty that’s the grumpy one. Jughead’s never seen her like this, all sharp edges (at least to him, to the Bug she’s still sweet, pressing kisses against her bellybutton). 

Jughead still hasn’t picked up when FP calls. 

On Friday afternoon of the third week, Betty has an idea for how they could make progress. Jughead hates this idea, because he secretly thinks it’s a cleaning project disguised as an investigation. 

Betty’s convinced that Jelly’s hidden something pertinent to what happened, or at the very least to the secrets Jelly has been keeping, in the house itself.

Her argument is partially based on the journals. They’ve reviewed all of them now, or rather all the ones they can find, a few seem to be missing, although it’s possible Jelly just didn’t keep them for certain periods. 

As far they can tell, there’s no journal for when she was pregnant with the Bug and none for the year she spent in Europe. 

It’s not just unaccounted for periods of time, but the fact that the journals were hiding secrets in plain sight. It’s a possible lead that they can’t risk overlooking. 

Jughead’s never been one for cleaning, particularly not deep cleaning, which he tends to reserve for when he’s actually moving. 

Still it makes sense in more ways than one. Jellybean left a lot of things behind when she died that they need to get rid of. 

Betty even goes so far as to suggest that getting rid of all of Jellybean’s makeup might be good for Jughead’s mental health. 

Betty comes up with the plan on Friday night. On Saturday morning Jughead wakes up to coffee, more french toast than he can possibly eat, and an overly perky Betty (it turns out that one of them does in fact like cleaning). 

Sweet Pea joins them for breakfast which surprises Jughead at first. They see Sweet Pea at least once a week, sometimes twice, but this is the first week outside of the one where Jughead moved here, where Jughead is seeing him three times.

It turns out Sweet Pea is not just taking advantage of the free french toast, he’s actually taking Junebug off their hands till dinner time. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing of Jelly’s you want?” Betty asks after Sweet Pea’s shoved away from the table, his plate empty even of syrup.

“If there’s anything sentimental, keep it for the Bug, but other than that I’m good.” 

“What about photos?”

Sweet Pea shrugs, “I should already have everything she has.”

“Ok,” Betty says, “and you’re sure you’ll be fine with the Bug for the day?”

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. “Yes. Really you can ask me to take her more often. I like spending time with her. I might even teach her how to walk.”

Jughead refrains from pointing out that that’s not how that works, even a little bit. Instead he follows Betty’s lead and nods. 

It’s strange letting Sweet Pea look after Junebug when they’re suspicious of him, but Jughead knows Sweet Pea wouldn’t hurt his daughter. 

Besides it’s not like they have a lot of extra cash to shell out for a sitter, and sitters qualified to take care of actual babies are expensive and hard to find. So Jughead’s a little nervous about the situation, but manageably so. 

It’s Jughead’s first childcare free day in months, and he plans to enjoy it, at least a little. He puts on This American Life before they start in on Jelly’s room. As much as Junebug loves music she hates talking on the radio. 

Betty seems happy with his choice. She starts in on the bookshelf first. She carefully flips thru each book for clues before putting it in a donation bin. Jughead saves a few from the bin, for his own re-reading pleasure, but most he’s happy to see go. 

Jughead throws all the makeup in a trash bag. He feels silly about it. He knows this stuff is expensive and that Betty wears it as well, but she laughs at the suggestion that she should keep it and dismisses him with the sentence, “That’s not how makeup works.”

“Why not?”

“Do you really want to know?” she asks skeptically. Jughead decides not to answer that and refocuses on listening to Ira Glass talk about libraries. 

There’s obviously no secrets among the makeup, although Jughead is quite entertained once he realizes how ridiculous all the names are. The books are equally unfruitful. 

They tackle her dresser together, Betty thankfully taking on the delicates, and Jughead handling all the t-shirts before he decides he can’t handle any more of this. 

“I’ve got to have coffee.” Jughead declares.

“I’ll go brew another.”

“No. I don’t think that will cut it. Why don’t we get out of here. Just for half an hour.”

Betty looks conflicted for a second, before dropping the cardboard box full of bras on the floor and saying, “Fine.”

It feels strangely luxurious to leave the house without changing a diaper or buckling a car seat. The ride over to Bean Around the World is quiet, but they’re both in the front seat together which is a rare occurrence. 

Jughead can’t help glancing at Betty every once in a while. Even in her house cleaning clothes and make up free, she’s beautiful, her eyes flashing green, her hair gleaming. 

The coffee shop is wood paneled inside, much nicer than any of the dingy shops that sold coffee when Jughead was growing up here. Betty orders a gingerbread Latte and Jughead an Americano. 

The barista, Katherine, is one of Betty’s former students, and they’re happy to see each other. Jughead actually stands back a little as they chat and tries to distract himself by glancing at the local weekly. Still, he overhears Katherine say, “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No. He’s my…….” As Betty trails off, Jughead tries to figure out how’d he’d answer that question in a public setting with Betty present. It’s hard to think of an answer that isn’t awkward or at the very least misleading in some way.

Jughead’s so distracted by his own inner musing he doesn’t hear Betty answer Katherine. By the time he’s paying attention again they’re talking about Katherine’s plans to move for a better job. 

Jughead hopes whoever employees Katherine next teaches her how to actually pull espresso because his Americano’s terribly bitter and a gritty. Still he says thanks after taking a sip. 

Maybe because they have so much to do at home, Jughead’s in no hurry to get back, and Betty doesn’t seem to be either. Instead they sit near a window with the view of the main street and Betty asks Jughead about what he misses in Chicago. 

Usually he doesn’t say that much at once, but it turns out he’s missing a lot. It’s not just Archie, Veronica, Fred, and Mary, but the kind of tangible possibilities a city like Chicago has. In Riverdale if you need apples after ten PM you’re out of luck, in Chicago you could get a mango at 5 AM.

Betty talks about what she misses as well. Chicago and New York having a lot in common in some ways. She misses museums the most and Jughead never went to those very often. Partially because he never had anyone to go with. He could imagine going with Betty, Junebug pointing at paintings from the comfort of her stroller.

They both miss having access to a diversity of food. Pop’s is great, but it’s the only decent restaurant in town. In Chicago Jughead had wonderful Ethiopian food once a week, and he and Archie would go out to this great Greek restaurant once a month. There were three Thai restaurants worth ordering from near Jughead’s apartment. 

Betty almost cries when talking about this Afghan restaurant near Madison Square Gardens that she grew up eating at. 

“We’ll be moving to Chicago in the summer.” Betty says with a confidence Jughead doesn’t feel. 

“Why not New York?” Jughead asks. He can work construction and write almost anywhere, or rather anywhere that isn’t his shitty hometown.

“Junebug doesn’t have family in New York. Don’t you think Mary will like Junebug?” 

Jughead hadn’t thought about the lack of family elsewhere. Mary would be pleased as punch and Fred would probably love having her around as well. Based on his reaction on Skype Jughead’s pretty sure Archie could care less, but Veronica might have some interest.

It's strange thinking about integrating his new life, with his old. He loves the idea of going back to the Greek restaurant with Archie, but to not bring Betty with is unthinkable. As much as he misses the city, he likes parts of his life here, the ones that involve Betty and the Bug, quiet evenings in. 

Still it warms his heart that Betty’s thinking long term like this. Even in the midst of the case, she’s trying to figure out their future.

“I think Mary will love Junebug,” Jughead says. He won’t miss much about this town outside of Pop’s when they move. Maybe Tina a little, but surely there will be other bored parents in Chicago. Junebug might even be in daycare there, although Jughead can’t imagine just handing her over to a stranger now.

“I’m glad you love Junebug,” Betty says. She’s picking at a napkin with one hand nervously. Jughead wonders why she’s nervous.

“Of course I do. I loved her before I met her because she was Jelly’s kid, but now I do in my own right.” Then because he thinks it’s important for Betty to know that she’s more than just the person he’s accidentally raising a child and investigating a murder with he adds, “I just really want you to know that I’m glad that we’re doing this together. Jelly might have had questionable taste in boyfriends, but I think she had excellent taste in friends.”

Betty blushes and her mouth opens as if she’s going to say something and then it closes again. Just when Jughead’s given up hope that she’s going to say anything she blurts, “I sometimes feel like you’re stuck with me, that I’m the weird plus one in all this. Jelly might have chosen me, but you didn’t.”

“I would,” Jughead says. “Trust me. I don’t like very many people, but I like you. I want to spend time with you. When the Bug’s asleep and we get to talk to each other or just sit on the sofa, that’s often my favorite time of day.”

She gives him a rare and beautiful smile and he wishes that they met under different circumstances. One where neither of them were burdened with grief and a murder investigation. Still he gets a hint of who Betty is without the fog of loss and exhaustion around her.

‘Mine too,” She says and she reaches out briefly to press her hand against his.

Jughead wants to linger in this moment. Even the music the shop is playing, Blister in the Sun, is perfect, but he knows they’ve got a lot waiting for them at home. “We should get going.”

The ride home is filled with a lively discussion of Lord of the Flies which Betty is teaching for the third time this year. Jughead still remembers the book as pure torture, but Betty insists her kids actually like it. 

Jughead can’t help glancing in the backseat even though Junebug’s not there. He’s so in the habit of taking care of her that it feels unnatural not to change diapers or bounce to keep her happy. It’s so quiet without her too. 

Back at the house, they eat sandwiches and finish with the drawers. Betty then starts in on under the bed, and Jughead works through the closet. It’s a mess, not just of clothes (Jelly owned way too many shirts) and shoes but of miscellaneous junk.

It’s tiring work and it doesn’t feel like investigating. The good thing is that except for a stuffed rabbit (bobo) that was Jelly’s when she was little, nothing upsets him too much. 

Betty seems OK too, although she gets a little teary while taking the photos off the walls. They leave the posters pinned to the ceiling though. 

When they haul all of the various boxes and bags out, the room already looks more like Jughead’s, although it is startlingly empty. 

It’s good that they’ve cleaned it up. It’s where Archie and Veronica will stay next week when they come. Jughead’s planning to sleep on the floor of the nursery. 

They order in pizza and Sweet Pea arrives and eats half of one. Jughead sneaks the Bug some of the melted cheese while Betty isn’t looking. The Bug loves it, she licks her lips, then cries when Jughead can’t give her more. 

Sweet Pea leaves with over half of the donation bags. After Junebug is successfully put to bed, Betty sits down on the sofa next to Jughead and says, “So at least we did a lot of productive cleaning today.” 

“I wish I felt that way. I keep wishing we were making more head way with the actual investigation. I don’t even know what to do next.”

“There’s more stuff in the garage. Jellybean used to spend a lot of time out there.”

“That wasn’t the sort of investigating I was thinking of.” Jughead groans. “I was thinking maybe talking to Malachi directly or going back to the Whyte Wyrm.”

Betty shakes her head. “Right now we don’t want to do anything to alert the Serpents. The last thing we want is Minetta telling us we can’t investigate Jellybeans death, or worse, going through with his threat on you.”

“I guess…” Although in this moment doing something stupid seems better than doing nothing for even a moment longer. 

“Look I can talk to Toni at Kickboxing class about the Serpents. Poke around just a little. Maybe you talk to Pop more, that always helps.

“Maybe. It’s just that Archie and Veronica will be here so soon. We can’t investigate then.”

Betty nods and moves on the sofa so that her hand briefly brushes his thigh. Jughead’s never been particularly touch oriented, he’s usually the first one to dodge hugs, but with Betty he can’t help but want her hand to linger where it had been, even though now it’s settled again tentatively on her own leg. 

Maybe if he was Archie, he’d have the confidence and experience to just tell her how he feels, but he doesn’t have either. 

The next day is busy with the Bug. Jughead lets her try out the mango packet he picked up at the store and then in the afternoon Betty puts the Bug in the front pack and starts to clean up the garage. 

Jughead doesn’t want to help, really. After all, he spent all Saturday doing stupid work. Now he was going to have to spend Sunday doing it too. But at least Betty will be there. 

So while Betty’s sorting through all of Jelly’s old storage boxes asking the question, “How many halloween costumes does one person need?” more than once, Jughead’s sorting through an old trunk of his mother’s that Jelly had presumably taken over.

He’s about five minutes from setting it all on fire when his fingers close around a book at the bottom, he pulls it out and there in his hand is one of the slim black lined books Jelly so liked to fill with her scrawl.

Jughead holds it over his head as if it’s a trophy and he just won gold. A second later Betty’s by his side her face glowing and smile filled.

“Jug, you did it!” she gives him a half awkward, half sweet side hug, the baby carrier preventing anything more. Junebug’s head is down and her body is still. She’s sleeping through their excitement easily.

Betty puts the notebook aside and they keep digging. There’s a lot of junk in there, but Betty won’t let him throw it out. It’s a good thing too because they find the second notebook in an old Pop’s take-out bag.

The biggest surprise is the last item they remove from the box. It’s an old jean jacket. It looks too heavy for Jelly to ever have worn it. It’s stained in the front and ripped in the back. 

Jughead’s checking all the pockets when his fingers find something sharp and hard, that feels folded. He pulls it out. 

It’s a leather case, small and slim, about the size that would carry business cards but it’s heavier, a little more bulky. He flips it open and all the breath exits his body, or rather it feels that way. He actually drops the case in shock. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Betty asks, and he picks it up for her, as bending too far with the baby in the front pack can be tricky. 

He watches as she opens it, her hands shaking. Jughead moves so he’s beside her so he can see what she’s seeing. 

Inside is a picture of Jellybean, her hair undyed, not a piercing in sight. Her lips are pressed together in a straight line, not even hinting at a smile. Next to her name is a card that proclaims FBI Agent Forsythia Jones. There’s a date stamped in the corner and an official looking watermark, underneath there’s a metal badge with a number.

Betty doesn’t swear or drop the case, but her whole body shakes a little and Jughead wraps an arm around her back. 

“Do you think it’s real?” Jughead asks. 

“Why else would she hide it?” Just as Betty says it the baby wakes up with a scream. Any attempt at actually talking right now would be silly.

“I’m going for a run,” Jughead says a few minutes later over the baby’s protests. Betty nods. She looks a little numb, which is how Jughead feels.

The run helps a little, even if the entire time his shoes are pounding the pavement he’s trying to imagine his little sister being a fed. He’s still having a hard time picturing her without the piercings, never mind shooting guns and doing pull ups or any of the number of things he has seen in movies during training montages. 

But as much as it adds a layer of mystery to Jelly it also takes one away. If she was undercover it could explain why she befriended the Serpents, hell it could even explain why she was selling drugs. 

Jughead runs out of breath long before he runs out of nervous energy. He walks home to find Betty making macaroni and cheese.

It’s comfort food and it seems like the right antidote for the day. Jughead has so much he wants to talk about with Betty and it’s clear from the way she keeps opening her mouth that she wants to too. 

But Junebug’s there, eating what looks like pureed spinach and crying on and off. It’s not the time to have an in depth conversation. 

Jughead puts the Bug to bed that night. As he rocks her in the nursery he’s grateful for the warm press of her against him. Babies can’t betray him the way adults can, at least. He sets her down carefully on the mattress.

The kitchen smells of cookies when he enters. Minutes later Betty removes a tray of snickerdoodles from the oven. Jughead can’t believe that this of all things is what’s finally broken her healthy eating habit, at least temporarily. 

He reaches for one and she slaps his hand away. “They need to cool,” she says, “and I’m brewing tea to go with them.”

Jughead’s never quite gotten the point of tea but if it’s accompanying cookies he’s not going to complain.

The two journals are already out on the kitchen table, one stacked on top of the other. “I’ve read the top one already,” Betty says. “Start there. We can talk after.”

Jughead opens it. There’s pages and pages full of Jelly’s script, the date at the top makes it clear that these events take place when she’s in Europe, or rather when she was supposed to be Europe.

She never went though, instead she was in Quantico, training that year instead. It starts out with her first day. Jelly’s writing is sharp and full of swear words. It’s hard to follow everything because jargony language sneaks in and Jelly’s writing this for herself not anyone else. 

Still Jughead’s so absorbed in what he’s reading he doesn’t even notice Betty putting the cookies down till she waves one under his nose.

“Thanks,” he says, grabbing it but not even bothering to look up. It’s an excellent cookie though. Chewie in the way a snickerdoodle should be.

He focuses again on the journal, reading between the lines as best he can, it becomes clear about 1/4th of the way through the book that Toni’s an FBI agent. 

It feels like this day keeps taking what he believes is true in the world and turning it on edge. Jughead puts the book down, Betty’s reading on the other side of the table, her left hand resting on the handle of her teacup.

“Do you think Toni’s FBI?” Jughead asks, after all she & Betty actually friends. They take kickboxing together, have for years he thinks. 

“Yes. How far are you?” 

“Right before Thanksgiving. They’re still cutting a bunch of recruits but it’s clear that Jelly’s getting special treatment. She knows they made exceptions for her to be there without a degree because of her ties to the Serpents but she’s still kind of pissed. There’s a whole page where she regrets telling Toni about what happened with me.”

It was so hard for Jughead to read about Jelly, breaking down one night at Pop’s from missing Jug so badly. Toni was the late night waitress who comforted her. He can picture the scene perfectly. The neon of Pop’s sign reflecting off Jelly’s hair. 

Maybe Toni’s intentions were the best, but she still conned a high schooler into giving up her life to become an undercover agent. 

Betty nods, “I never even knew Toni worked at Pop’s. Jelly did tell me that Sweet Pea flirted with her even when she was in High School, between that and your dad’s ties to the gang and her loyalty to you, she would have seemed like the perfect candidate.”

“I just don’t get why Toni being undercover wasn’t enough.” Jughead said stuffing another cookie into his mouth.

“It’s in that journal, just further in. All the male agents the FBI had tried to plant had failed, but Toni couldn’t make any headway because she was female. The gang’s always been patriarchal, outside of Penny. Girlfriends of gang members actually end up knowing more than the female members. It’s fucked up, and back then Jelly wasn’t sure it was true.”

“Was it?” Jughead asks, after all Betty’s halfway through the second journal.

“Yes. Six months into dating Pea, Jelly knew all sorts of information Toni wasn’t privy to after years of being undercover.”

It still felt like all this was fiction. Like this was a joke. “It just can’t be real,” Jughead says.

Betty’s gaze meets his and she takes his hands in hers. Her hands are soft, like she actually remembers to put on the lotion she keeps by the sink every morning. The one with the Norwegian flag on it.

“Jug, this explains every question we had about her, every secret she kept from us.”

“Don’t you feel betrayed?” Jughead asks. If Archie was suddenly revealed to have been leading a double life all this time he would have been pissed. 

Betty laughs lightly, her hands still on his. “She did this for you, for Riverdale. I can’t judge her for that. It’s not like she befriended me as part of her undercover mission.”

It’s true, Betty was not a part of a gang. Betty wasn’t able to help Forsythia Jones, FBI, she was able to help Jellybean Jones, school secretary and single mom. 

“The FBI salary was how she was able to afford the house.” Jughead says, that piece suddenly sliding into place.

Betty’s cheeks turn a rosy red “You’re not even going to have to need to read the second journal are you?”. He can tell by the way that her voice cracks at the end just a little, that she’s hiding something. Or maybe not hiding something, but not being entirely open about it. There’s something in the journal she’s reading that she’s struggling with. 

Jughead wants to ask why, but he decides it’s better to wait, to see for himself. Maybe what’s bothering Betty won’t bother him. 

They go back to reading and eating. It’s funny because Jughead’s always thought of himself as the writer in the family, but even though Jelly wrote this entirely for herself, there’s lots of powerful lines.

When she describes spending Christmas break at Quantico alone, he almost cries. Her improvement at pull-ups is covered in such detail that Jughead feels like he can picture her doing this unnatural detail. He feels so much closer to her after reading this journal. 

This journal is far more personal than the ones in her bedroom. Maybe because she was so alone and isolated at Quantico, maybe because she felt she could only confide in it at the time. Or maybe because she always knew she was going to hide it.

They switch journals after Jughead’s finished. While Jughead reads the second journal, the one Jelly wrote while she was pregnant with Junebug, Betty takes detailed notes on the Quantico one.

This journal doesn’t start out with the pregnancy, it starts out like the other journals Jughead’s already read, the ones she kept out in her room. It’s full of daily details and boring mundane sentences like I ate this and I drank that. 

After the warmth of the previous journal it feels like a letdown. Or rather it does till she realizes she’s pregnant. It’s disclosed in an entry that reveals a little too bluntly Jelly’s mixed feelings for Sweet Pea.

Jughead understands their relationship better now, she was undercover as his girlfriend. They were physically together, as a (messed up) part of Jelly’s job. The job was to never get pregnant. Jelly makes it clear that she had taken every precaution. 

After finding out that she’s pregnant, Jelly’s initially conflicted about the situation, she wants a child, but not in these circumstances. But as the pregnancy continues, she doesn’t inform the FBI and she becomes more determined to keep the baby. 

The entry that guts Jughead comes right near the end of the book. It reads:

Toni found out about the baby today. She saw the bump and she asked in that blunt way of hers, and when I told her the truth and that it was Pea, she called our boss Steven right away. They made the appointment for me, and I knew then and there that I couldn’t go through with it, that I want this baby. 

The circumstances suck, I get that. But it doesn’t change that this is my family. That I want the baby. I looked over my contract. They can’t fire me for this.  
The next entry is much shorter:

I told everyone today. Pea is furious, the bureau even more so. Only Betty took my hands in hers and said “You’re my sister. This baby is going to be my niece or nephew. I couldn’t be prouder of them and they aren’t even born yet.” 

Jughead tries to remember his own reaction, but he can’t exactly. He wasn’t happy that was for sure, but it was all happening so far away from him, it seemed distant, not concrete, not real. Back then, the Bug wasn’t a person with a diaper to change. 

Still if he could go back in time and support her, he would. He would do so much. Only then does he realize there are tears in his eyes. He glances across the table to see if Betty can see him crying or if he has enough time to sneak out to the room. 

But when his eyes meet hers, he sees right away that hers are equally full of tears. Her face wet with the aftermath of them. 

In silence they take each others hands and move to the sofa, she cuddles into his side, and cries into his t-shirt, his tears fall on her hair. 

At some point the tears dry and they just hold each other. It just feels so comforting to be there with her, Jughead can’t imagine questioning it. His body relaxes into the warmth of the cuddle, his arms around her, her arms around him, her legs slung over his.

Jughead feels crushed by the weight of this secret. For one strange moment he wishes that all those years ago he could have killed Malachi. The idea that Jellybean went down this path because of him is overwhelming.

He’s finding it almost hard to breathe. Then Betty whispers into his ear as if it’s a secret and they’re not alone in the privacy of their living room “This is not your fault.”

“It is. It is.”

Betty places her hands on either side of his face and looks him straight in the eye. “No. She wasn’t some kid going undercover on her own. She was a highly trained federal employee. The FBI should have had her back, not let some local sheriff hide her death as an accident.”

“Are you saying this is a cover up?” 

“I don’t think it’s that simple. But I am saying the FBI has some explaining to do.” Betty lets go of his face and holds him again.

“Should we ask Toni about this?” Jughead asks. 

“No. We don’t want the FBI to know that we know. I don’t trust her, I don’t trust anyone.”

They don’t talk after that, instead they stay there, just holding each other for a very long time. At some point they both fall asleep.

Jughead wakes to the Junebug crying. He feels something move on his chest and he realizes that it’s Betty. At some point in the night they’ve repositioned. They’re both lying down now, her mostly on top of him.

He expects her to startle again or swear, but instead she blushes, stands up, and then with a glance back, her lips tugged upward in a small smile, she leaves to check on the bug.

A few minutes later Betty’s back, the Bug’s sleepy head resting on her shoulder. It’s still dark outside but a glance at the clock makes it’s clear that it’s morning, just a few minutes before Betty’s school day alarm goes off. 

“I didn’t mean to stay there all night.” Jughead says, even though this time the sleeping wasn’t a decision so much as an accident.

“It’s fine,” Betty says.

Everything between them is so good, it feels golden and the rest of the world is shit right now, so he probably shouldn’t say anything, but apparently he can’t shut up sometimes because he asks, “Why were you so upset before, with the cuddling in Toledo?”

“The spooning you mean? It was embarrassing.”

“Why?” Jughead asks trying not to look insulted. 

“Because I cuddled into you like that. I didn’t mean to I swear.”

Jughead laughs, he can’t help it, “Why did you think you cuddled into me? I was pretty sure it was the other way around?”

Betty blushes, “I used to be a notorious snuggler. My ex-fiancé hated it! We’d go to bed on opposite sides of a king, and I’d still end up cuddling him. I’ve never really shared beds for that reason.”

“I really don’t mind.” Jughead says honestly if he could think even less of her ex-fiencee, he would. “You can spoon me anytime,” then as if it has the worst possible sense of timing Betty’s alarm clock goes off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Or maybe not - Please tell me either way!
> 
> I have to say I’ve been waiting since day 1 to write this chapter, like a greedy child, and I kind of feel that way about the next chapter as well!
> 
> Oh and I want to say that I Kittilee and I had a long discussion about how Jellybean wouldn't normally be allowed in Quantico given that she doesn't have a four year college degree + two years of experience, but since it was important that she not be too old for the story to take place it seemed like a fair fiction trade off. 
> 
> Also I went back and forth on bringing in abortion at all and I didn't like the idea of pressure but I felt like it would be a weird thing to skip over completely. I wanted Jelly who has given up so much for others to chose something she wanted (if she didn't want it, I would have wanted her to choose that). 
> 
> The next chapter is a bit of a change of pace. I feel like this story has been wading through a lot of tough stuff and next chapter is a shift, a different kind of moment if you will.
> 
> I am so grateful for feedback. It really keeps me motivated.


	7. Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is really long (by my standards), and it comes it at 8,000 words. 
> 
> I didn't think it would be up this week but KittiLee (who deserves all the LOVE!) beta-d in less than 24 hours when I told her not rush and she did a spectacular job (in my opinion). I am so thankful!

Jughead’s sweeping the floor of Pop’s, one eye on the clock, his ears firmly focused on Malachi’s voice. He can only hear every other word but he’s trying to piece them together.

Malachi is ensconced in a back booth with a blond whose neck sports a tattooed ear of corn.

In two hours time, Jughead will be picking Archie and Veronica up from the airport, and he really should be focusing on that, but he can’t. Not with Malachi saying words like “brick” and “crack”. 

If Jughead heard those words in a different context, he’d be thinking home renovation, but there was no doubt in his mind that Malachi was talking about drugs. 

Not that Jughead could hear the details. Malachi’s voice was low, and his body was close to the blond, her ear inches from his mouth. 

Jughead gathered the contents of the dustpan, went out back and dumped it. When he re-entered, the diner was empty, a twenty that barely covered the bill discarded on the table. 

Jughead grabs a bar towel, white once, but gray now, and starts to wipe down the counter. He wants to kick himself for not having better hearing. He’s about to switch to wiping down the booth itself when a body slams into his back and a hand covers his mouth. 

The table impacts Jughead’s stomach in a way that makes him want to puke. The man behind him, doesn’t let up, just keeps pressing harder, but once Jughead’s recovered from the impact, he uses his teeth to bite at the palm of the man’s hand.

“Shit,” the man says, and any doubt Jughead had that the man was Malachi, vanishes. 

Surprisingly, Malachi lets go of him and yells, “Hands up!” Jughead obeys without making any quips about the law or bad action movies. 

He turns around to face Malachi slowly and the other man doesn’t stop him. 

Malachi’s hair is wild, like it always is, and his jaw is set, but more importantly his gun is out. Jughead feels terrified and desperate, but he focuses not on that feeling, but on Betty and Junebug, the people he has to get home to.

“What do you want?” Jughead asks. “There’s not much cash in the till.”

“I want you to stop fucking snooping,” Malachi snarls. “I know you were listening to me. I want to know what you heard.”

“Nothing interesting” Jughead says honestly. He’s never seen the point of lying. Having a gun pointed at him doesn’t change that. “The word crack, the word brick.”

Malachi smiles at that, sticks his gun into the waistline of his jeans like it’s no big deal, and then turns to go. 

Jughead doesn’t move, and for a moment he thinks it’s over, but in the doorway Malachi turns and says, “Quit working for Pop’s, and you should be fine.”

Only once Jughead sees Malachi drive away in his car does Jughead sag onto the seat of the booth with relief. His body feels like he just ran eight miles, when in reality all he did was stand in front of a gun for less than sixty seconds. Still his extremities shake with pent up tension.

The way Malachi threatened him so casually felt like a big glaring sign that said “I killed Jellybean Jones”. But if that was the case, Jughead doesn’t think Malachi would have left the diner with Jughead still breathing. There are no video camera’s upfront, and the one outside stopped working last month. His murder would be startlingly easy to get away with, yet Malachi never pulled the trigger.

Jughead breathes heavily for a few minutes and then calls Betty. He can tell she’s pacing by the time he finishes his story. Her voice has an edge of panic to it, but she still manages to help him feel calmer. She tells him to leave a note on the counter for Pop saying he quits.

If anyone will understand the situation it’s Pop, but Jughead hates the idea of leaving him in the lurch. 

By the time Jughead stops by the house to give a PJ clad Betty a hug, he feels surprisingly calm. 

When he greets Archie and Veronica at the Riverdale airport he’s smiling. It might just be the adrenaline from surviving such a close encounter, but he feels good as he leads them out to where he’s parked Betty’s car.

Veronica predictably has brought way too much luggage. It barely fits in Betty’s hatch back and Archie teases her gently about it. Jughead’s so glad to see them again. To be reminded of how well he knows both of them.

Since discovering Jelly’s secret, he’s felt better in general. It’s not just that he now knows his sister wasn’t leading an illegal double life (not that a legal one was necessarily that much better), but he feels like they made headway on the case. Now they have a motive, and Jughead feels certain, more than ever that the Serpents did it. 

Still as much headway as they made on the case, Betty and he agreed not to investigate during Archie and Veronica’s visit. It just seemed so complicated, and this was the Bugs first Christmas after all. It should at least feel festive. Instead they’d focused most of their energy this week on taking notes on Jelly’s journals and creating a timeline.

They also prepped the house for the holidays and for the visitors. Betty seemed a little nervous about meeting Archie and Veronica, but that was to be expected. 

“So this is where you grew up?” Veronica asked. Her gaze is focused on the view out the window as it flashes by. It’s a pretty depressing view right now. They’re passing a stripmall that closed a decade ago. The windows of all the businesses boarded up. 

“This is the Southside.” Archie declares “The Northside’s nicer.” Although Jughead can tell by the expression on his face that it’s mostly bluster. Jughead thinks it’s all a bit silly. There are parts of Chicago that look exactly like this. 

“Jelly’s house is on the Northside,” Jughead says.

“Isn’t it your house now?” Archie asks. 

“It’s Betty’s actually. Although it goes to Junebug when she comes of age, if Betty still owns it then. When we move to Chicago she will probably sell it, but we’ve talked about it becoming a rental property. Either way it should help with the Bugs college fund.”

Veronica grins. “We can’t wait till you move back.”

Jughead nods, although all that seems theoretical. They have to solve Jelly’s murder first and that’s his primary preoccupation. Although not the only one. 

Betty and he haven’t slept on the same bed or couch since Sunday night, and they haven’t talked about it since, but every day they’ve watched a half hour of The Good Place together while snuggling.

Betty usually starts out with her legs on Jughead’s lap and by the end, her face is pressed against his chest and his arm is wrapped around her back. Nothing more has happened, but he wants it to. He expects that she does too.

He wishes he was brave enough to just talk about it in an open way. To make it clear that it’s not just platonic snuggling (is that even a thing?) he’s into. 

It’s strange because in the past Jughead’s always been the person whose physically reluctant to move forward with a partner. This time that’s not the case. Not that he can call Betty a partner yet, outside of the context of parenting and investigating anyways.

Jughead pulls up to the house. Archie scrambles out of the back seat and then hauls their luggage from the trunk.

“It’s pretty nice,” Veronica says, in a tone that’s a little too dismissive. Jellybean put her all into this house, in more ways than one.

“It’s way nicer than where Jughead grew up,” Archie says. 

Jughead can’t help but laugh. “Way to throw me under a bus, Arch.” Although he doesn’t really mind.

“The trees already up, and it’s beautiful!” Veronica says, excitedly. The tree is visible in the window. They’d picked it out yesterday and decorated it today. Betty had a lot of decorations from her childhood and Jelly had acquired a few as an adult.

It had been fun listening to Christmas music and decorating the tree. Betty had made special note of the ornaments Jelly had given her every year, as well as the ones she’d given Jelly. It was something Jughead could never remember doing before, yet still it made him feel nostalgic. 

He wishes that he’d been able to visit Jellybean last Christmas. He could have seen what Jelly’s life was actually like and met Betty under much better circumstances. 

Jughead leads Archie and Veronica in. It’s very late, almost one in the morning and Betty’s asleep. Jughead tells Archie and Veronica that they’ll meet her in the morning as he shows them their room, which is usually his room. 

Archie teases him gently about the posters on the ceiling and it looking like a girls dorm room, but Veronica appreciates the vanity, and sets a rather large makeup case on it. 

Jughead sleeps on the floor of the nursery that night. The Bug is in the crib beside him and every time he shifts on the blow-up mattress it makes a squeaking sound, and the Bug threatens to wake but doesn’t. The whole unfortunate cycle makes it very hard for Jughead to get deep sleep. 

At some point when it’s still dark out the Bug wakes and Jughead chooses the path of least resistance by taking the Bug from her crib and laying her down on his chest, one hand flat on her back to keep her in place. 

He wakes up to a patch of drool on his chest and two dark brown inquisitive eyes staring at him. 

“Huhhh.” He says, more than a little disoriented and Junebug laughs, thumping her hands against his chest. Jughead’s never going to understand baby humor but it’s a great way to wake up, with a joyful baby snuggled up against him. 

Light is streaming through the windows now, he realizes that somehow they both managed to sleep in.

He can hear voices in the other room chatting. Everyone else is probably up. He feels a tinge of guilt, because he didn’t want Betty to have to meet Archie and Veronica on her own.

He pulls on a pair of PJ pants, changes his drooled on t-shirt and heads towards the kitchen, the Bug tucked into his side, her hips around one of his. It’s her preferred method of being carried at the moment. 

There’s a strong scent of bacon in the air. He enters the kitchen to see Betty, hair up in a bun, an apron that says “I’m too punk rock for this”, although the outfit Betty has on underneath, a casual green dress and tights, doesn’t look punk rock even a little. The apron previously belonged to Jellybean.

Betty’s making waffles and Veronica’s leaning against the counter next to her sipping from a blue mug. Veronica’s got a gleam in her eyes. Even from the doorway Jughead can tell that the two of them are getting along. 

Archie’s at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand, his cellphone in the other. 

“So I guess everyone’s met,” Jughead says, getting everyone’s attention.

“Excuse me. I have not properly met Junebug yet,” Veronica says, walking towards Jughead, a cheshire cat grin on her face. 

She bends down so she’s eye to eye with Junebug. The Bug reaches out a tentative finger and pokes Veronica’s nose, prompting Veronica to stick out her tongue. Junebug must really be in a good mood today because she laughs at that.

Archie tries the same move, and she laughs all over again. 

“She’s so cute, man.” Archie says as Veronica takes Junebug in her own arms, clearly ready for a baby snuggle. 

“Thanks,” Jughead says with a shrug. It’s not like he has anything to do with how cute Junebug is. 

“The waffles are almost done,” Betty says. “Please sit.”

Veronica reluctantly allows Junebug to be buckled into the high chair. The breakfast is delicious. Betty even gives a slightly mashed waffle to Junebug who is delighted and doesn’t drop a single piece on the floor.

The conversation comes easily. They talk about Junebug and Riverdale and everyone’s plans for the day. It’s a nice easy level of banter that Jughead could get used to. 

Archie spends most of the day out with Veronica, showing her the parts of Riverdale he remembers. He even takes her to Pop’s and Jughead is very grateful that he doesn’t have to go with. He’s pretty sure he’s only ever going to get takeout there from now on. 

Instead he and Betty make Christmas cookies. Betty rolls out the dough for gingersnaps and helps Junebug press her hand into the dough in a way that leaves hand prints that are blurred around the edges.

“Pinterest fail,” Betty says with an exaggerated sigh. Still she takes photos of the cookies.

In the evening, they all eat dinner together, and then Betty disappears to put Junebug to sleep. She never reappears and Jughead figures she needs some alone time, so he watches The Princess Bride with Archie and Veronica and they talk. 

Archie updates Jughead on the state of the construction crew and Veronica talks about the third boutique she’s opening. It’s all very normal. 

No one asks any questions about Betty but Jughead can read Veronica well enough to know she likes Betty a lot. They’ve already made plans to go shopping tomorrow for last minute Christmas presents. Christmas eve is the worst day to shop out of the whole year so Jughead’s glad he’s not being roped in.

At ten, Jughead’s exhausted. Sleeping on a blow up mattress was far from restful. So he excuses himself and makes his way towards the nursery. 

He can’t pass Betty’s door without knocking. It’s so rare for him to spend an evening without her unless he’s working. When he knocks, Betty says, “Come in.”

He opens the door. She’s got some music on low, and just one lamp on near her bed. They’ve shared so much, yet he still feels nervous in her space. The way she pats the bed beside her makes it clear that he’s welcome. 

She’s leaning back against the headboard, a book open in her hands, a tired look on her face. 

“Do you think they’re having a good time?” Betty asks.

Jughead’s not sure how to answer that. Veronica and Archie usually spend Christmas at a luxury resort in Jamaica, compared to that there’s no way Riverdale can stack up and yet, they’re here anyhow because they love him, and they seem to like Junebug and be enjoying themselves, given the circumstances. 

So Jughead decides to focus on the positive. “Of course. You’ve been such a great host.”

It’s only because of Betty’s effort that meals have come together seamlessly and issues have been resolved almost as soon as they arose. Archie had been in a huff this morning about needing a toothbrush and she’d been able to provide a brand new one, no store involved.

He wants her to know that he sees how much she does, for him and his guests. For everyone around her really.

Betty blushes deeply. “It was so important to my mother that I be a good host that when I first got here I rebelled against it, but I think it’s a part of who I am.”

“It’s a gift, that’s what it is,” Jughead says. He wishes he was brave enough to tell her that she’s a gift, not just to him. He hopes that the present he bought her for Christmas will help convey that, but it’s a lot to ask of an inanimate object.

She pats the spot beside her, higher up on the bed, making it clear that’s where she wants him, so he sits down beside her. She leans in, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Does Archie hate me?” Betty asks in a quiet voice. Jughead’s body tenses.

“No! Why would you even say that?” Jughead asks. Betty’s head is no longer on his shoulder. Instead her posture is stiff and upright.

“It was just something he said. It’s not a big deal. Can we drop it?”

He can tell by her tone of voice that it was a big deal, but also that she’s desperate to stop talking about it. He takes a deep breath, promises himself that he’ll pay more attention tomorrow and then nods a yes.

Betty turns on the Great British Bakeoff and they are both caught up in the comforting hum of it. Around midnight he knows he should be getting to bed but the mattress on the floor of the nursery is a hard sell.

“You can stay you know,” Betty says softly. “Just grab the baby monitor.” So he does that. 

They fall asleep on different sides of the bed but wake up in spoons. Jughead’s arm is wrapped around Betty. She feels soft and cozy next to him, the pattern of her breaths is comforting.

At first Jughead thinks she’s asleep and then her arm moves up to scratch behind her ear and he realizes that she too is awake. 

“How long have you been up?” he asks quietly. 

“About five minutes.”

Her answer fills him with hope, the idea that she’s been in his arms for five minutes, awake and enjoying it, makes him happy.

“Me too,” he says softly. 

“We have to get up soon.”

“Why?” Jughead honestly can’t see a reason. He doesn’t know what time it is, but no one has work and the baby isn’t crying. Plus, he can tell by the level of light coming in that it’s still before seven. 

“Do you want to answer awkward questions about where you spent the night?” 

It’s a good point, as much as he hates it. “Fine.” He grumbles, getting up slowly. 

“I don’t want you to go.”

Jughead laughs. “Then don’t bring up good points next time.” He’s already hoping the next time is tonight. 

Betty laughs and shakes her head, “I feel like a teenager again, and we haven’t even done anything.”

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure snuggling counts as something in my books.” As he says it he tries to play it as a joke, but that’s not really what it is. He’s serious. 

He’s slept with a few women over the years, mainly because everyone seemed to think it was something he would want to do. 

It wasn’t a bad experience exactly, it just wasn’t good. It was far closer to neutral than anything Archie had ever described in terms of himself and women. 

Jughead never really spooned any of those women. He doesn’t know why he would have wanted to, he didn’t know them the way he knew Betty. He cares for Betty, wants to make her life better in tangible ways and he can’t help but feel that when they spoon both their lives improve. 

Betty sits up and moves over to where he’s standing and takes his hands in hers. It’s clear she knows it wasn’t all said in jest.

“Mine too.”

“I haven’t really done this before.” He surprises himself by saying it. He can’t believe he did, but he knows he was able to because he trusts Betty. 

“What do you mean?”

Jughead shrugs. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people aren’t really my thing.”

Betty laughs, “I noticed.”

“I guess that extends to dating. I mean I’ve slept with women, but not many and not seriously.”

He expects to see judgment on her face, but he sees none. Her eyes are full of warmth. 

“I’ve only been with one person and they betrayed me completely.”

“I would never do that to you.” 

“I know, but you and Junebug are the closest thing I have to family right now.” Betty’s tearing up a little. He’s never seen her look so vulnerable, so young and raw. 

“The same is true for me.” Jughead says bluntly and then in a moment of bravery, or early morning stupidity, he kisses her, not on the lips but next to them, a gentle press. Then he leaves the room, opening and closing the door quietly.

Junebug is still sleeping in her crib, but she stirs as he lays down on the air mattress. It makes a slight squeaking sound as it settles down around him. He doesn’t fall back asleep, instead he stares at the ceiling and thinks about how soft Betty’s skin was against his lips.

This whole situation should terrify him. He’s falling for the person he’s going to have to spend the next twenty years of his life with. Yet he can’t bring himself to feel anything but happy. 

Junebug wakes with a scream and it startles him from his revelry. When he gets out to the kitchen Betty hands him the mug that says “Booklovers Never Sleep Alone” and he can’t help but feel like it’s a nudge and a wink full of warmth. That’s not why he refills the mug three times though. 

The morning passes as a blur. Betty and Veronica disappear to the mall. Jughead can’t help but feel sorry for Betty, he knows the mall isn’t where she pictured herself being on Christmas Eve, no matter how much she likes Veronica.

It’s nice to get some alone time with Archie. After lunch he walks with Archie to Sweetwater River.

Archie’s babbling on about work, they just started on a new highrise and Archie’s whole crew will be there for at least another year. Jughead is particularly glad he missed out on that job. He’s always preferred houses and smaller buildings, ones where it’s much easier to feel a sense of accomplishment. 

Then Archie asks Jughead about his second book. Jughead hates having to answer this question. It wasn’t going well in Chicago, and now that he’s here he’s been so busy he’s only written a chapter and a half in two months. 

“I’m not making any real progress,” he admits. Junebug’s asleep and he’s trying to focus on her calming presence in the front pack, her long heavy breaths. “I don’t really have much time to write here.”

He can’t tell Archie why he’s so busy. Obviously caring for Junebug takes a lot of his time, but the ongoing investigation is what really uses up more than its fair share of his mental energy. 

But Jughead can’t tell anyone else about the investigation. He doesn’t want to put anyone else's life at risk. 

“Can’t Betty help give you time?” Archie says with a raised eyebrow. 

Jughead laughs at that. This implies that Betty somehow has more free time than him, not less. She works full time and still manages to do most of the cooking and the cleaning. 

“No,” Jughead says bluntly. He doesn’t even bother elaborating because it’s so obvious that Betty has no time to spare, not even taking the investigation into consideration. 

Archie’s spent almost two days with them, surely he’s noticed how much Betty does during that time. It’s not like meals magically make themselves. 

They walk in silence for a few minutes. They’re by the rapids now, and it’s loud but also beautiful.   
Once they turn back towards home Archie says, “You’re really great with Junebug.”

“I try.” He says it because it’s true. He always feels like he’s learning what makes her happy, and by the time he’s in a comfortable rhythm with her, it all changes again, shifts underneath his feet. 

“I mean it. You seem like her dad. You have that diaper changing down pat and you know what she can and can’t eat. You make her happy so quickly.”

Those words help. They give him so much encouragement. Betty’s told him how much help he’s become, how much better he is with Junebug now, but she’s so supportive of him, that he worried that clouded her judgment.

“Thanks.” Jughead says, hoping that one word conveys how much he feels. 

When they get home, the girls are back already. Betty’s got a chicken and dumpling soup on the stove that smells amazing and she’s rolling out dough for tomorrow's pies. 

Veronica complains about the mall and all the stores it doesn’t have but she gushes about Betty and the way she can’t wait to have her best gal pal in Chicago. 

Betty laughs as she puts the dough in the freezer and comments on how this is the most she’s gone out in a long time without Junebug. Jughead hadn’t even thought about that. It’s not like work really counts and he makes a mental note to give her some time off soon. Then he alters the mental note, they should get a sitter and both take some time off together. 

He wonders why he’s so nervous to ask her out on a date. He likes her, and he knows at the very least that she’s open to the possibility of dating him. The conversation they had this morning makes that much clear. 

He’s still mulling over asking out strategies when she places the most delicious bowl of soup in front of him. 

Even Junebug gets a dumpling, mashed, which she devours with a gleeful glint in her eye. Everyone else has seconds and Jughead has fourths. 

That night Jughead doesn’t even pretend that he’s not planning to sleep with Betty, he changes into his pajamas and has the baby monitor in his right hand before he even knocks on her door. 

She says come in and so he does. 

He keeps forgetting it’s Christmas tomorrow, but her room reminds him that it is. There’s now a huge stack of presents wrapped and waiting in one corner and a beautiful plaid Christmas dress for Junebug hanging from a chair. 

They’d all agreed to forgo stockings but there’s one on Betty’s desk with Junebug’s name embroidered on it. Jughead is struck again by Betty’s thoughtfulness, by all the ways she conveys her love that don’t involve words.

Jughead’s own collection of gifts was much smaller, but at least he’d wrapped them this year. He knew that fact alone will shock Archie and Veronica.

Betty’s sitting on her bed reading a book. She’s wearing Christmas PJ’s that have a tree across the top. 

“How’s the day?” he asks, snuggling in beside her.

“Good. Veronica’s a lot of fun and a little scary, she kept ordering the salespeople around like they were her employees.”

“That sounds like her.”

“She’s smart too. Does she always drop so many literary references or is she only pulling them out because I’m an English teacher.”

Jughead laughs, “It’s definitely not just for your benefit.”

Betty smiles and gets up, returning with a box wrapped in black paper with a shiny gold bow.

“Christmas is tomorrow.” Jughead points out.

“In my family, we always exchanged at least one present the day before.”

“Ok. Just give me a minute.” It ends up taking him two minutes to grab one of Betty’s present. He still leaves two in reserve, a mug shaped like a fox, and an ornament shaped like a book.

He insists that she open hers first. She does so carefully, focusing on the tape so as not to rip the paper, even though the paper is generic and santa covered, cheap dollar store stuff. 

A smile spreads across her face when she finally frees the picture frame from the wrapping.

It contains a photo of her and Junebug cuddled on the easy chair. Jughead had taken it with his phone so the resolution isn’t perfect, but it captures so much tenderness. Betty’s lips press against the top of the Bugs head. There’s a sleepy smile on the Bugs face. 

The frame is nice too, polished dark wood, with softer edges.

“I love it.” Betty says pressing a kiss against his cheek. Jughead’s watched her kiss Junebug so many times and he’s always imagined what it felt like, but it turns out that he wasn’t imagining right, although it’s hard to put it into words.

There’s a smile on Betty’s face that Jughead’s not familiar with. It’s a little more mischievous than her usual one. He doesn’t know what it means, but decides to focus on his present instead.

He rips his package open, saving the bow only because he knows Junebug’s going to love it. Inside the wrapping paper there’s a framed photo of Junebug and him. In the photo he’s standing in the window, Junebug tucked up against him, both gazing out into the yard. 

Jughead remembers that they were staring at deer but the deer are not in the picture. Jughead had no idea Betty took that shot. The frame Betty chose is the same one Jughead did. 

She dissolves into giggles first, but he follows. Minutes later she’s wiping tears from her eyes and he finds himself wishing that she would kiss him again. 

Instead they put their presents away and turn off the lights. In the morning he wakes to her hand in his.

He pads out into the hallway to find Archie, shirtless on his way back from the washroom.

“No way!” Archie exclaims loudly.

Jughead doesn’t even know what to say, except, “It’s not what you think it is,” before diving into the nursery. In his rush he crashes into the crib and wakes Junebug, who calms instantly in his arms. 

He checks the time. It’s later than he thought so he takes the baby and goes to make coffee. Archie’s already in the kitchen trying to get the coffee maker to work and so Jughead walks him through the steps. 

Minutes later Betty enters in a simple green wool dress with a smile on her face. She presses a kiss to Junebug’s forehead before making gingerbread pancakes. 

It’s safe to say Junebug’s never eaten anything as delicious as the gingerbread pancakes before. She actually ends up licking the tray. Jughead’s so glad they are able to feed her actual food now, he loves discovering her likes and dislikes that way.

Jughead tries not to notice the way Archie refuses to look at Betty. Even when he thanks her for breakfast his eyes are focused on the table in front of him.

After breakfast it’s time to exchange presents. The focus is on Junebug, who seems to care less about the cute onsies and isn’t even impressed with the toys, but she does seem to like the bows and paper, crumpling and twisting it. 

Archie gets Veronica a purse that looks like every other purse to Jughead but she gushes about it. Jughead gives Betty the ornament first and she cries when she opens it “You remembered!’ She says. 

“I like preserving traditions.” He manages to say with a shrug. He likes the idea of continuing what Jelly and Betty started. 

Jughead’s not surprised to discover that she also gave him an ornament, a tiny metal typewriter. “It’s perfect”

The rest of the day passes in a rush and before long Sweet Pea is arriving for dinner, wearing a parka, and carrying a large present for Junebug which ends up being a bouncer and a baby leather jacket.

Betty leans over and whispers, “at least it’s not patched,” to Jughead and he can’t help but laugh. 

They all eat dinner and Jughead feels astonished by how well everyone is getting along. Betty and Veronica teasing about naming the boys food babies. Archie and Sweet Pea have a long conversation about football. Jughead mostly just enjoys feeding Junebug mashed potato. 

After dinner, Junebug’s so dirty that Betty takes her to run a bath. Jughead eager to have a moment of peace, a moment with her, joins them in running the bath. 

He’s busy scrubbing Junebug’s head with a washcloth when Betty says, “Don’t forget the neck!”. In the living room he can hear Veronica laughing loudly about something.

Jughead tickles Junebugs chin till she stretches back and reveals a very dirty neck, creases filled with little bits of mashed potatoes and contraband gravy.

“Yuck!” Jughead says. “I had no idea babies could get so dirty.”

Betty laughs. “Jelly used to say, It’s as dirty as a babies neck, whenever she wanted to convey that something was truly disgusting without others realizing what she was saying.”

“What did she say it about? Garbage.”

“Oh no, usually she said it about tacky t-shirts or bad music.”

Jughead laughs. He can almost hear Jelly say that. She was clever even in her cruelty. 

Junebug is happy to be lifted from the tub and towel dried. Betty dresses her in a new onsie with santa hats.

“Can I put her to sleep tonight?” Jughead asks. As pleasant as the evening has been, he feels a little tired from all the people, he wants to extend the feeling of peace he has before going out to the living room and talking.

“Of course,” Betty says and presses a kiss into Junebug’s cheek. “I love you, Bug.”

Jughead sings the two lines he can remember of silent night over and over again till Junebug falls asleep. Before he lays her down in the crib he tries to kiss her in the same exact spot on the cheek that Betty did. 

He should probably just be brave enough to kiss Betty. It’s funny because most people would kiss before snuggling, yet he still feels unsure if kissing is the next step. As much as he wants to kiss her, it doesn’t feel inevitable, it feels unlikely, and he’s not sure why.

When Jughead enters the living room Sweet Pea’s gone and so is Betty. Veronica is focused on the TV in complete silence, and Archie is too. There’s tension in the air. Jughead knows Veronica well enough to know that even though she’s silent right now, she’s mad. 

“Arch, what happened? Where’s Betty?”

“In the kitchen, cleaning.” Archie shrugs, not meeting Jughead’s gaze.

Veronica stands up, “She’s in there, because your best friend and my fiancé is a dumbass.”

“What happened?” Jughead says, his stomach lurches. 

“Archie, tell him.” Veronica says sending Archie a glare that was more intense than the time he’d managed to throw out her favorite pair of heels. She then stomps past both of them into the kitchen. 

Jughead feels at loose ends, standing in the middle of the living room, in front of a muted TV screen, Scrubs silently looping through a decades old Christmas special behind him, Archie staring at it slack jawed and silent.

He really wishes he’d pressed Betty for details about how Archie made her uncomfortable now.

Just when Jughead’s about to break his half of the stalemate Archie opens his mouth and says, “I just think Betty’s using you. I told her to take care of her own problems.” 

“What? What? Why would you even say that” Jughead shouts. The statement Archie made doesn’t connect to the Betty he knows in any way. 

Jughead’s hands tighten into fists as Archie stands up. They haven’t thrown punches since they were six and Jughead’s pretty sure that’s not going to change today. 

“Look if Betty was some woman from your past that you knocked up and suddenly popped into your life with a four month old, you wouldn’t be helping her, you’d be pissed.”

It’s strange to hear those words come out of Archie’s mouth. Archie who was raised by one of the best dads of all times and a human rights lawyer mother. Archie who once secretly nursed a squirrel back to health.

“What the fuck?” Jughead says. He can’t help being a little redundant. It’s like he’s stuck in a strange sideways world. “First off, I would still be responsible in that scenario, and secondly Junebug isn’t Betty’s biological responsibility either. We both became parents under unusual circumstances. If you think she’s using me, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Jug, I get that you’re not seeing this correctly, but you do almost all the childcare. You don’t even have time to write. In Chicago you had a life. You had a career. Here you have nothing of your own. You’re changing, you’re losing yourself.”

Right now, Jughead felt like what he was losing was his temper. Archie had been by his side for so long and he didn’t even realize who Jughead really was. He thought Jughead was happy in Chicago when he was just surviving. His life here had far more meaning. He had a sense of purpose beyond himself and his writing. 

“Look, I don’t know if you know how real life works, Arch, but Betty puts food on the table, money towards the bills. She has a real bill paying job, any job I could get wouldn’t really cover childcare, which I love by the way, thanks for asking. Betty does way more than her fair share of cooking and cleaning, and she’s the only reason I have half a clue of how to care for Junebug.”

Jughead pauses there and focuses on meeting Archie’s gaze, the red heads face is flushed. His fists are clenched too. Then Jughead continues. “I didn’t have a career in Chicago, I had a job, not one I liked any more than bussing tables at Pop’s. I wasn’t happy there. I had you and Veronica there. Mary and Fred when I had time to see them, but here I have purpose.”

“Cleaning poopie diapers is a purpose?” 

“Sure, Junebug’s always happier after, but I’m not even talking about that. I have a life here, a family, and that’s something I haven’t had in a long time.” 

Jughead can’t say that he regrets saying the word “family” out loud but it does surprise him, how easily it came out of his mouth, how true it felt.

“So you’re with her now? After all these years of passing over women, you’re choosing a small town blond.”

Jughead laughs at that description. Inaccurate in every way but the hair color, which hardly mattered. 

“We’re not together like that. She grew up in New York City. There’s nothing small town about her. Not that that would be bad” He says it softly because he doesn’t want Betty to hear him say they’re not together, because he doesn’t want it to be true for much longer. Even in this moment his body pumped full of anger, he knows that. “You’re confusing me, Archie. For years you set me up on dates with strangers, but now the idea that I’m with someone upsets you?”

Archie looks away, but Jughead doesn’t, gazing at the side of Archie’s face like it will reveal why he’s suddenly gone crazy. 

Jughead keeps waiting for Archie to say something that makes it clear why he’s saying such hateful things. But as the minutes pass it’s clear that isn’t going to happen. That’s when Jughead realizes, whatever Archie says it’s not going to make anything miraculously better.

“Please leave,” Jughead says. “You are not welcome in this house if you’re going to treat Betty that way. She’s the best person I know.”

“You’ve really fallen for her.” 

“That isn’t even the point,” Jughead says and it’s true. Even if Archie had come a few months ago he would have said the same thing. He might not have wanted to kiss her back then, but he knew how lucky he was to have her, for his sister to have found a real friend like that. 

Back then he had thought of Betty as Jelly’s equivalent to Archie, now he knew better than that.

“I gave up on the tropics to come visit you in a trashy bungalow and you are asking me to leave?”

“Now,” Jughead says. 

Archie glares at him, and then marches into the kitchen. Jughead can’t see him any longer but he can hear him ask Veronica to come with him, and Veronica replies with a sharp no. Archie disappears into the bedroom for a few minutes and when he re-enters the living room he’s wearing a parka, and pulling his luggage.

The minute Archie leaves, Jughead locks the door behind him and rushes into the kitchen. 

Betty and Veronica are sitting in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate. Jughead can tell that they had been crying, and not long ago either, but neither had tears in their eyes now. Betty hands him a cup of hot chocolate.

“I was just telling Betty how sorry I am for the way Archie acted. I wanted to apologize to you too, Jughead.”

“There’s no need,” Jughead says. “What he said is not your responsibility unless you agree with him.”

“Hell no. B’s no small town girl!”

Betty laughs. Jughead’s happy to hear that sound.

“You are always welcome here,” Jughead says. “Any clue to what’s going on with Archie?”

“No. He’s been acting weird lately, but this seems more extreme than that. I’ll sleep here tonight, let him cool off and try to figure it out in the morning.”

“Good,” Jughead says and with that Veronica gets up and leaves. 

Jughead can feel the air grow tense between him and Betty. 

“I’m so sorry Archie said those things,” Jughead says. 

At the same time Betty blurts out, “You think I’m family?”

“Of course you’re family, Betts. But not in the sibling way. Jughead says. He didn’t speak up earlier and he knows he should have. Then quieter he murmurs, “Definitely not in a sibling kind of way.”

“Good.” Betty says and then to Jughead’s surprise Betty’s lips press against his, soft and a little warm, probably from the hot chocolate. 

The kiss is tentative at first, as if their lips are trying to figure out how they fit together. Then it shifts, Jughead’s no longer thinking about what to do, because his body has taken over.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but when Betty steps back, her lips puffy and her philtrum red, Jughead feels like he understands the world differently, everything feels sharper, the path of his future, defined by murder investigations, and Junebug is suddenly more Betty shaped, happier. 

Jughead’s kissed before, but he’s never felt like this. He always felt too in his head before. It’s not like he hadn’t liked it, but it had always seemed a little disappointing. Like going to see a movie everyone else loved and discovering that it’s just ok. 

Jughead’s silent after the kiss because he’s too happy to put anything into words, but Betty must misinterpret his silence, because she flushes lightly with embarrassment and then says “I’m sorry if this complicates things. I know we live together and are raising a child together and it would be easier if we were just friends ...”

“No.” Jughead says sharply “I think we missed the friend’s cut off a long time ago. We’ve been more than that for a while now. I’d never ever snuggle Archie. I was just quiet because I was reveling in the moment.”

This time he kisses her and when they break for air his hand is underneath her shirt pressing into the small of her back. He’s not even sure how it got there, but he pulls it away.

“So you want to be with me?” Betty’s voice is hesitant when she asks the question.

“Hell yes. Sign me up,” Jughead says, and then because he’s pretty sure part of actually dating is going on dates, “Let’s go to dinner and the movies on Thursday.”

“That sounds good.”

They kiss again, and again. By the time they finally head towards bed it’s 1:00 in the morning and Jughead feels almost high from the kissing and the sleep deprivation. The walls seem blurry, and a little slanted. He doesn’t remember them being that way.

Jughead gets undressed quickly, stipping down to his boxers which are awkwardly tented, and then slides in next to Betty, a foot of space between them. She’s already turned off the overhead light, but a nightlight is still on, casting a faint glow.

He turns towards her and she presses kisses against his mouth in quick succession, and then pulls back. In the dim light he can still see the expression on her face. There’s a smile, but she’s nervous too, something about the way her eyes move tell him that. 

“We should go to sleep,” she says. 

They have so much to talk about, but all he wants to do is kiss her, so he does, her hand presses into his lower back, first above his shirt and then beneath it. Her hands warm and soft, her nails pinching slightly, but not in an unpleasant way.

She pulls back again “Jug. I don’t want to move too fast.”

He hates that sentence, but he sees the truth in it. “I should sleep elsewhere.”

Betty hides her face in her hands, “I don’t want you to.”

“But I should. These things take time. I mean I want to take you out on a date first and tell you my darkest secret.”

“I don’t already know your darkest secrets?”

Jughead wiggles his eyebrows and only belatedly realizes she probably can’t see them move in the half-light. “You do.” He says it softly. 

Betty kisses him again, but on the forehead this time. “It’s important we don’t rush things.” The words “for Junebug’s sake” are unspoken, but weigh heavy in Jughead’s mind. What they’re building between them needs to last, not just for their own sake. 

“I know.” 

“I do have one secret I can tell you. It’s just not a dark one.”

“Go on.” He can already see a nervous smile forming on Betty’s lips.

“Jelly always wanted to set us up. From the very first week I met her she would tease me about it. She kept trying to convince me to come to Chicago with her. But I was always nervous. The more certain she became, the less certain I was.”

Jughead laughs, even though the story tugs a little at his heart, reminds him what they both lost. “I think she made a pretty amazing matchmaker.” 

He gets up then, reluctantly, but if he stays any longer he won’t get up at all. Betty sighs when he gets up and so he leans back down and kisses her on the lips, gently three times, and then he goes.

Only once Jughead’s alone on his air mattress trying to sleep in spite of his whole body feeling more awake than it’s been in years, does he think about Archie. He can’t help but feel angry and confused by the situation. 

Archie’s always been a little self involved, but a good friend, one that had Jughead’s back when he needed it most, until now. Jughead wonders if it’s just jealousy. While Archie’s always had lots of friends, Jughead’s only ever really had Archie, and by extension Archie’s family. Maybe that’s what has him out of sorts. 

His dreams when they finally do come don’t offer up any answers. In the morning there’s radio silence from Archie, but Veronica leaves after breakfast. At two in the afternoon Archie shows up on the front porch, his hands behind his back, and he apologizes to Betty. 

Betty forgives him of course but Jughead can’t help but notice how she keeps her arms crossed the whole time before heading to the kitchen to feed Junebug. This leaves Jughead alone in the doorway staring at Archie.

“What’s this about?” Jughead asks. 

“I can’t tell you,” Archie says, meeting Jughead’s gaze. Only then in that moment does Jughead realize Archie’s hiding something about himself, that this temper tantrum might in fact have nothing to do with Betty or Jughead. “But I can say I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Good.” Jughead says “And just so you know, we’re together now.”

A pained expression crosses Archie’s face but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he follows Jughead into the living room and they talk for a bit about nothing important. The next day and a half pass like this till Archie and Veronica leave. 

It’s awkward to hug the person that used to be his best friend goodbye and know that they’re not anymore, but it also feels strangely ok. It’s not like he’s never going to talk to Archie again, they’ll be friends, just in a different way. 

Although honestly it’s not Archie that Jughead’s thinking about while he drives home from the airport, but Betty, the way she feels in his arms, the way he feels in hers, makes even the top forty music playing on the radio seem great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Smoosh!!!
> 
> How are we feeling? 
> 
> I am grateful for any and all feedback!


	8. You Can't Always Get What You Want...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you is owed to KittiLee who is wonderful in every way and a brilliant plot hole detector.

It’s raining the day after Archie and Veronica leave, the day before Jughead’s first date with Betty. 

Even though it’s ten AM and Jughead has consumed three cups of coffee, he still feels half asleep. The grayness of the day has him worn down. 

Betty is chipper and upbeat, one day without house guests or school seems enough to refresh her. 

Although refresh might not be the right word. Refocused is probably the more accurate choice. All of their investigation notes are decorating the kitchen table, like napkins from a party gone wrong. 

Jughead keeps kissing her, because he’d much rather be doing that than investigating. As much as that works in the moment, the minute he stops to sip coffee or play with the Bug, Betty returns to pouring over the papers. 

“I know we are missing something!” Betty exclaims. Junebug cries and Betty places a mumum the tray in front of her. Junebug yelps as she grabs at it.

“What could we possibly have missed? We’ve been over these notes dozens of times.” Some, Jughead is pretty sure he knows by heart by now. 

“A lead. There must be someone we can talk to that will get us further.”

“Who? You already tried with Toni, and she shut up as soon as you even mentioned her working at Pop’s.”

“Who else may be involved?” Betty asks. Beside her Junebug smiles, the mumum sticking out of her mouth like a pale tongue. 

“I don’t know. Sweet Pea, Tallboy, Penny, Malachi, Minnetta. It really doesn’t matter. None of them are going to answer any of our damn questions.”

Just saying Malachi’s name made Jughead feel guilty. Pop Tate had taken Jughead’s spur of the moment resignation badly, and Jughead couldn’t even blame him. It’s not like he’d wanted to leave, and he’s pretty sure Malachi wasn’t going to kill him, but not sure enough to take the risk.

Betty gets this gleam in her eye that Jughead’s began to link with trouble. Then she says, “Maybe they won’t talk, but their houses would.”

“Betty, we can’t want into Sunnyside Trailer Park. Anyone who doesn’t live there stands out like sore thumbs.”

“Then we break into Minetta’s.”

Jughead’s stomach clenches, “You’re suggesting we break into the sheriff’s house? How insane are you?”

Betty crosses her arms. It’s a defensive maneuver if he ever saw one, and Jughead realizes that his kissing quota is about to take a nosedive, so he backtracks a little, “Sorry. We’ve just got to be careful. There’s no way we could break into Minetta’s place.”

“I don’t think it would be hard.” Betty says calmly. “He keeps his keys under a flowerpot near the door.”

“How do you know that?” Jughead said. “How could the Sheriff even be that casual about security?”

“One of my students used to pet sit for him. Half the town doesn’t even lock it’s doors. I know you don’t all the time.” 

This is true. Sometimes when Jughead headed to Sweetwater he forgot. The first time it was an accident, but after talking to Tina about it, he figured it’s part of living in a small town.

“He’s probably home.” Jughead counters. 

Instead of replying Betty picks up her phone and sends off a text message without comment. 

Jughead busies himself by helping Junebug out of her highchair. She’s not happy in his arms but when he sets her down on the ground she perks up. She’s been attempting to crawl for a while now. Mostly it ends in faceplants, but it gives Jughead hope.

This time she scoots around on her bottom instead, using her feet to propel her backwards across the linoleum. 

Betty looks up from her phone and smiles brightly, “Billy says the Sheriff’s in his office. He’ll text us if that changes.”

It takes Jughead a second to remember “Billy” is Dr. Curdle Junior. “So? It’s the middle of the day. We have Junebug.”

“All the better,” Betty says with a smile. “Who is crazy enough to break into a house with a baby in broad daylight?”

It turns out that Jughead is. Although technically the baby is strapped to Betty in the front pack, and not him. Jughead feels a little bad bringing Junebug along on a felony, but it’s not like she can be arrested.

The key’s exactly where Betty’s student said it would be and they open the door easily. Jughead can’t see any visible camera’s but they both have hoods on just in case, and Betty’s hair is tucked back. 

They poke around a bit before finding the home office, but it’s clear right away that if the Sheriff has any incriminating evidence, it’s here.

Although it seems unlikely that they would find it. There’s paper everywhere, and tons of drawers. So they start rummaging through them. 

Betty made them both put on rubber gloves before entering and it makes handling the papers trickier but less nerve wracking. 

Jughead’s making quicker progress than Betty because Junebug’s awake and she keeps trying to seize the papers Betty attempts to hold. 

Betty leaves Jughead with the filing system and starts searching higher up, first through the bookshelves and then in the cupboard. 

Jughead’s shocked when he glances down at his watch and discovers that somehow a half hour has passed. 

If the neighbors called the cops they would have been here ages ago. This is nothing like in the movies where finding the clues is a simple in and out job. 

Betty yells his name and emerges from the closet with a blue folder. It’s un-labeled but as soon as Betty puts it down on the table, Jughead can see why she’s so excited. 

It’s a ledger of sorts. Some of the Serpents are in there, along with a whole slew of names, too many to take in at first glance. They can’t exactly pour over it here. So Betty goes through the pages and carefully takes a photo of each piece of paper front and back. 

Betty carefully puts it back in the cupboard and glances around the office. It looks exactly as it is when they entered. Maybe a few pages have moved slightly, but nothing that would tip Minneta off.

They lock the door and put the key back. None of the sheriff's neighbors seem to be home. 

On the walk back home, Jughead keeps glancing over his shoulder as if someone is behind them but no one is. He’s pretty sure this was the easiest break in ever. 

They get home before noon and Betty makes grilled cheese. It feels surreal to have gotten away with robbing the sheriff so easily. 

After scooting around on the floor a bit, the Bug falls asleep next to the sink. Betty moves her to the crib. After the Bug is settled, Betty closes all the curtains and turns towards Jughead to say something, but before she can get any words out, he’s kissing her.

He spent the whole walk home thinking about kisses, and where they can lead.

It’s a good kiss, deep, and lingering, followed up by smaller kisses, and then Betty presses back hard and slow. His hand is up her shirt and he wonders if that’s why she closed the curtains. 

“Can I?” he asks, his hand tugging at a bra strap.

“Please,” she says. She pulls back and takes off her own shirt.

Her bra’s simple and blue, he barely notices it, he’s so distracted by what fills it. 

After a moment Betty turns and presents him with her back, and only then does he realize, he gets to take it off. He unhooks the back inefficiently with lots of fumbling, because her skin is so soft and her lower back is right there. 

He keeps wondering why he never felt this way before. Every second it gets harder to breath, but every breath feels more powerful. He’s never felt so firmly in his body before, his mind a distant thing. 

There’s a sharp rap on the door. Jughead tries to ignore it, dropping Betty’s bra on the ground and cupping her breasts. She makes a sound that makes him press his lips against hers again and again. 

The knocking doesn’t stop. Betty pulls away first. “If this goes on any longer, Junebug will wake up.”

She bends down to grab her bra and Jughead tries not to get distracted by the way her curves look in motion. Her face flushed from kissing. He forces himself to answer the door, knowing that he looks more than a little rumpled. 

Jughead opens the without checking through the peephole, clearly a mistake since Sweet Pea’s standing there, looking more belligerent than usual.

“What’s wrong?’ Jughead asks, not bothering with hello. Sweet Pea doesn’t bother with pleasantries either, he just pushes past Jughead into the house. 

Jughead briefly moves to stop him, but then he sees Betty fully dressed, enter the living room, and he moves out of Sweet Pea’s way.

“I’ve had a bad day,” Sweet Pea mumbles. “Can I just snuggle my daughter?”

Jughead can’t smell the alcohol on Sweet Pea’s breath, but that doesn’t mean he’s not drunk. But it’s not like they can stop him.

“She’s sleeping in the crib,” Betty says. “You can hold her if you want to. ” 

Jughead notices how Betty’s hair is mussed, and her philtrum is red from all the kissing. He can see Sweet Pea notice it as well. Jughead worries that Sweet Pea will comment on it, but instead he says “I do want to hold her,” before disappearing down the hallway.

“What’s up?” Betty asks.

“I don’t know anything more than you do,” Jughead says. “But his sense of timing is terrible.”

Betty laughs softly. ‘I’m not so sure. As good as that felt, we still have work to do.”

Jughead wasn’t sure if she was referring to the ledger or the date, but both were true, so he nods. Jughead feels on edge the rest of the time Sweet Pea’s there. He’s unable to concentrate on anything. 

Sweet Pea exits the nursery twenty minutes later with a slightly more relaxed expression on his face. 

Jughead can’t help but notice that he’s got a new tattoo, a diamond prominently displayed on his right hand.

“Sorry, I interrupted you guys earlier,” Sweet Pea says, a blush coloring his cheeks. “I didn’t even realize you two were together.” 

“It’s new,” Betty says, her cheeks redder than Pea’s.

“I’m glad your together,” Sweet Pea says, before leaving. Jughead’s a little shocked he has any opinion on the matter.

Jughead watches him leave. He doesn’t speak till the motorcycle is out of sight. He’s suspicious about the timing. “Has he ever done this before?” 

“He used to do it all the time when Jelly was alive.” Betty says with a shrug. “He’s been around less in general since you moved here.” 

She disappears into her bedroom and reappears with the ledgers, laying them down on the table for them to look through. Jughead drinks another cup of coffee, but even that doesn’t help him parse the ledgers. He’s never been good with numbers and there’s a lot here, and names as well. Every month there’s about 35 names, and various payments.

“Shit!” Jughead says, suddenly.

“What?”

Jughead doesn’t say anything, he just points to a name, or rather initials, at the bottom of the page - FP.

“Oh,” Betty says and then she takes a pink highlighter and marks it up. They end up finding at least one instance of FP on every couple of pages. Jughead can’t imagine it’s a good sign. 

Lots of other Serpents are in the ledger. Sweet Pea even is occasionally. But none of those other Serpents are in jail. Plus the numbers beside FP’s names are usually 500 or 600, higher than most of the numbers on the ledger.

“Do you think that’s money FP is paying Minnetta or the other way around?” Jughead asks.

“It’s complicated. Give me a moment,” Betty says, grabbing a blue highlighter. She is looking for something specific, he could tell that much. Jughead just kept wishing they could return to the kissing. 

“Ok,” Betty says after a moment. “I think I’ve figured it out. Most of the Serpents are paying Minetta, that’s why they are in the column marked in, as in money in. But your father is the only one in the column named out, so I think the Sheriff is paying him.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Only your father would know the answer to that.”

“Oh hell no!” Jughead says, slapping the table melodramatically. He already knows he’s going to give in and ask his dad about it, but he can’t help but make a show of protest. 

“There’s something else,” Betty says, not pushing him. “Almost all the names on the ledger belong to Serpents, except for two, I think.” 

She places her finger down below one of the blue highlighted sections, and there Jughead sees the name Malachi, then Betty moves her finger so that she’s pointing at the name Jason.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“I was hoping you’d know. You’ve lived here a lot longer than I have.”

“Still I’ve never met anyone named Jason,” Jughead says, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he realizes they’re not exactly true. In high school Jason Blossom regularly slammed him into lockers. “Actually, I did know a Jason. Jason Blossom was a year ahead of me in high school.”

“Oh,” Betty says.

“But I think he moved away a long time ago,” Jughead says. “The Blossoms ran this town for a long time, but a little after I left his twin sister Cheryl was killed and the family left town after that. It was a big deal. Archie ranted about it forever.”

Betty’s writing everything down as fast as she can. A few minutes later she glances up from her notes and asks, “Did you see how much Jason’s paying Minnetta?”

Jughead hadn’t, so he glanced back at the list. The number 5,000 is next to Jason's name.

“Fuck.”

“Was he ever a Serpent?” Betty asks.

Jughead shakes his head. “He was Northside through and through. He called everyone from the Southside scum. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he hated me.”

Betty nods, seriously. “It’s another angle to look into.”. 

She’s right, of course, they woke up this morning without any clues and now they have almost too many. 

“So when are we going to visit FP?” Betty asks.

Jughead groans. This is the last thing he wants to do. He hasn’t even answered his dad’s phone calls for over a month. 

Still the next morning, bright and early, they get Junebug dressed in a onesie covered in birds and head over to the penitentiary. It’s an hour drive, but Jughead hangs out in the back with Junebug feeding her yogis, and it would have been pleasant except for the anxiety growing in his gut. 

It doesn’t get easier when they park the car and make the long walk in through multiple security checkpoints. 

Finally, they’re allowed to see FP. He’s on the other side of the glass, but still it’s the first time Jughead’s been within feet of his father in a decade.

Jughed’s reminded again of the fact that his father has always chosen the Serpents over his family before. First with Gladys, and then with himself. He’s hoping his father didn’t know about Jellybean, that this will be the first time he chooses family over Serpents.

“Breathe,” Betty whispers beside him, and it’s only at this point that he realizes he’s not. So he inhales and exhales, then he picks up the phone

On the other side of the glass FP says “Jug! Junebug!” into the phone. His tone is full of excitement. Jughead focuses on how good it will feel to destroy that mood. He takes another deep breath and picks up the phone.

“How are you doing?” Jughead asks, but FP doesn’t even meet his gaze, he’s so focused on Junebug. 

“She’s beautiful. I can’t believe you brought her. I thought you were mad at me. You stopped answering my calls.”

“I was mad,” Jughead says. He and Betty have been over what they are supposed to say a dozen times, but still he’s nervous about divulging too much, about this whole thing veering off script. 

Of course it helps that there’s bulletproof glass between them and FP. It’s reassuring, as is the guard that stands a little behind and to the left of FP. 

“Why?” FP asks, his gaze now focused on Jughead. 

“We went to Toledo,” Betty says. FP’s gaze hardens and his arm shakes a little “But that’s not why we are here. We want to know why Minnetta’s paying you.” 

FP drops the phone with a clatter, and the guard starts to move towards him. FP reacts by saying something to the guard and picking up the phone again. The guard stops and then backs away. 

“How the hell did you find that out?” FP says, his voice dropping.

“It doesn’t matter.” Jughead says, trying not to think about the ledger. “We want to know why?”

“Why the hell do you care? This has nothing to do with Gladys!” 

“I don’t care about Gladys.” Jughead says, it’s a half truth, but it’s better than nothing. “I care about Jelly.”

“What does this have to do with Jelly?” 

“She was murdered. We are trying to solve it.” Jughead says. He has to remind himself to breath again.

“No.” FP says with a head shake. “That’s just not true. There’s no fucking way that could be true.” 

Jughead is glad that Betty had insisted on bringing the coroners reports. It had been awkward getting them through security. The guards had been curious about it, but they’d allowed it. 

Betty presses each of the pages up against the glass. FP reads them slowly. But the expressions he makes, make it clear to Jughead that FP didn’t have a clue till now that Jelly’s death wasn’t an accident. 

FP’s crying by the end of the report. Junebug, who is used to being the only one crying is confused by the whole situation, and cuddles in closer to Betty for comfort.

“What do my payments have to do with any of this?”

“We suspect that Minneta’s involved, or the Serpents,” Betty says.

“Why. The Serpents love Jelly. Not just Sweet Pea. She was an honorary member, really. Part of the family.”

“What she was, was FBI.” Betty says bluntly. She presses a photo of Jelly’s badge and ID against the glass.

They’d argued a lot over whether to tell him this or not, but Jughead had won. His argument had been that if Jelly was killed by the Serpents it could only be because they figured out she was FBI. Even if the other Serpents hadn’t told FP about Jelly being FBI he’d find out once he got out. Jelly was already dead, they had nothing to lose by telling FP who she really worked for. 

If that didn’t get FP to help them nothing would, and at least they tried. 

“What the fuck?” FP says. Jughead can hardly blame him. It’s taken them months to uncover all this and now they are laying it out all out at once for FP.

“It’s true.” 

“I can see that. Look I don’t know how I can help, but I want to.” FP glances from side to side. The room is empty except for their group and the guard. “Minetta was paying me to keep tabs on prisoners from Riverdale. He wanted me to report back to him on anything I learned that may be going down back home. You learn a lot in here. It helped Minetta do his job.”

“And the Serpents didn’t mind?” Jughead asks.

FP shrugs. “I don’t report on them. Besides the Serpents pay Minetta enough to keep looking the other way. It works out. He’s not on our side, but his budgets not enough to restore order if the Serpents upset it. I don’t know how any of this helps you.”

“We think the Serpents must have found out that Jelly was FBI. We think that’s why she was killed.” Betty says bluntly. “Minetta is helping with the cover up. He’s the one who declared her death an accident. He threatened us.”

“Don’t mess with him, boy.” FP says, his gaze meeting Jugheads. “He might be paying me now, but he’s the reason I ended up here in the first place.”

“We can’t let Jelly’s murderer go unpunished.” 

“I just don’t think the Serpents did it,” FP says, his expression tight. “Or at least not directly.”

“What?” 

“They would have hired someone. Or gotten a Serpent from another town to do it. That’s how this works.”

“Is that how it worked with Gladys? Was that how it was supposed to work with me and Malachai” Jughead asks. He can’t help but feel his temper rise but he keeps his voice steady. Still, Betty must pick up on it, because she removes a hand from Junebug and places it on his thigh. The weight of it comforts him.

“Yeah,” FP says. “I’m Sorry.” 

An apology from FP means nothing. It was one thing to suspect the worst about FP, it was another to learn that it was true. 

Jughead wants to swear, to punch. But if he does that they’ll get kicked out of here in no time. It will take all of their hard work and waste it. 

So instead balls his hands into fists and takes a deep breath. Betty takes her hand and presses it against his lower back for just a moment. But even that little bit of tenderness helps. 

Betty then takes the phone from Jughead’s hand and says into it “How would we find out who killed her?” B

“You don’t. They don’t leave paper trails. All of it’s verbal. Coded if they can be. The Serpents are getting smarter. They are even doing away with the old tattoos.” 

“Don’t you want justice for your daughter?” Betty says, leaning forward so much her nose almost touches the glass. 

FP’s jaw shakes. “You can’t always get what you want,” wIth that he puts the phone back into the cradle with a definitive click. He stands up, and with one sad looking backwards glance, he walks out of the room. 

It’s a strange prelude to a first date. 

Jughead finds that his whole body trembles on the drive back. He’s more convinced than ever that the Serpents killed Jellybean. It’s just a matter of proving what FP claims is improvable. 

They trade off with Junebug during the afternoon. Betty goes for a run and then Jughead. The physical activity helps clear his head a little. 

Tina comes by to sit Junebug at six. She admires Betty’s dress, a new wool one, and teases Jughead about his suspenders being up. 

Tina left her baby alone with her husband. “He has to learn how to solo parent at some point,” she says as they leave, and then she adds, “Stay out late. Have fun.”

“We plan to,” Betty says with a wink. Jughead drives, and Betty rests her hand on his thigh all the way to the restaurant one town over. 

The drive over takes a while, but the further they drive away from Riverdale the better Jughead feels. By the time they arrive he feels as if what happened this morning was a terrible dream. 

Even though the restaurant is stuffy and the food is overcooked, Jughead is happy to just focus on eating and talking, and not on keeping Junebug happy. He tries not to think about her at all, but she keeps sneaking in. 

Then Betty brings up her childhood love of Trixie Beldon and Jughead completely forgets about Junebug. They are deep in a discussion about bestselling books from the past that are unfairly forgotten when the tiramisu arrives. Jughead sneaks a discrete kiss after taking one chocolatey bite.

“It feels so strange to be doing this. Like we’re a normal couple,” Betty says, after they are finished with the tiramisu.

“Are you calling me weird? I feel like you’re calling me weird.” 

“I’m calling us weird.” Betty says with a wink.

“I can live with that, as long as we get to go on more dates.”

“Isn’t that a little presumptuous?” 

Jughead knows it’s a joke, so he teases back, “We already live together, Cooper.”

The waiter who is dropping off the bill gives them a very strange look, Jughead can’t blame her.

After dinner they go for a walk. It’s a nicer little downtown than Riverdale has. There’s less boarded up windows and more lights, but still it feels a little dodgy. There’s some bikers around, but they aren’t wearing patches. 

One tall man that they pass has the king of hearts tattooed on the back of his neck. The man stares at Betty a little too long.

It’s enough for Jughead to suggest they go back to the car. They drive the long way home listening to Ben Howard sing, mumbley and heart felt. Jughead pulls the car over onto a dead end street when they are almost home and Betty unbuckles and finds her way onto his lap. 

They make out for five perfect minutes till Betty pulls back and says, “We aren’t teenagers. There are much better places to do this.”

“My bed or yours?” 

“I have the better mattress,” Betty says as she re-buckles her seatbelt. 

When they get home Tina’s watching TV on the sofa and Betty promises to return the favor next week. Tina laughs and heads out with a wave. 

Jughead can’t help but feel a little nervous when the door closes behind her. He wants this so much, but it’s never lived up to his expectations before, so he’s a little worried now. Although he probably shouldn’t be, because everything with Betty’s been so different. 

Instead of thinking about it, Jughead presses her against the door and kisses her with probably too much tongue, but she seems to like it, if the way her body moves against his is any indicator. 

“Guys. Cut it out.” Sweet Pea’s voice snarls. 

Betty lets out a quiet scream and Jughead lets go of her, turning to face Sweet Pea, making sure to position his body between Betty’s and Sweet Pea’s. 

He needs Betty to be safe.

Sweet Pea’s in the kitchen, the light is off behind him. Jughead can see the shape of his body but not his features. Even without seeing his expression he knows he isn’t smiling. 

“What are you doing here?” Jughead asks.

“You gotta stop what you’re doing, right now, or you’re gonna end up dead.” Sweet Pea says. 

“Are we really that close to figuring it out?” Betty asks. 

Suddenly Jughead can see Sweet Pea’s facial expression, it’s visible in an unexplained beam of light, too steady to be the headlights of car. In the white light Jughead can see that Sweet Pea’s teeth are clenched. 

Instead of Sweet Pea answering, instead of Jughead saying anything about the light, the door behind Sweet Pea flies open, and a female voice shouts, “FBI, put your hands up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mental image that inspired this story was one of Jughead and Betty breaking into a house with one of them wearing an ergo baby carrier, holding a very awake baby. Somehow I already knew that baby wasn't theirs. It's funny how ideas work sometimes. 
> 
> Now I have just three more chapters to go and if all goes as planned this will be done by Christmas.
> 
> I am so grateful for your feedback!


	9. Get What You Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks goes out to KittiLee for helping with every single aspect of this, particularly trouble shooting and dialogue. I'm the luckiest to have her as a beta and a friend.

Chapter 9.

Jughead’s heart races. His hands go above his head. He glances back and sees that Betty has hers raised as well. 

He wants to move between her and the voice, but he doesn’t want to make anyone nervous either. 

He can’t see the FBI agents, but they must have guns.

“Sweet Pea, move further into the room!” the female voice shouts. 

Sweet Pea, whose hands are up the highest, moves backwards towards them. Jughead wonders how the FBI agent knows Sweet Pea’s name. 

The lights switch on. In the doorway, hair back in a ponytail, is Toni. 

She’s dressed in a vest, the initials FBI stitched on the front, her gun is out and at the ready, her stance conveys that she is used to it being there. She looks similar, but more confident than Serpent Toni.

Toni is not alone. Behind her there are two men with guns and vests just like hers. Jughead’s never seen either of them before. They are both bulky, strong looking in a generic GI Joe way. Jughead feels like they couldn’t pass for civilians even if they tried.

“I always knew I couldn’t trust you,” Sweet Pea snarls. 

“You wouldn’t trust a woman unless you were screwing her,” Toni bites back.

Jughead winces and Sweet Pea grumbles “I shouldn’t have trusted her either.” 

The words fill Jughead with fury and frustration. Anger courses through him. It’s hard to stand still, but he does. 

Toni walks towards Sweet Pea as if he’s the only person in the room and says, “You are under arrest for the trafficking of narcotics. You have the right to remain silent.”

“Fuck you!” Sweet Pea shouts just as Toni locks the handcuffs on his wrists.

Jughead has a hard time focusing. The timing of this feels so strange. Why arrest Pea now? What was Pea even doing here in the first place? 

Toni’s smug in her actions as she takes the cuffed Sweet Pea and hands him over to one of the other FBI agents. The agent leads him out of the room past Betty and Jughead while reading him the rest of his Miranda Rights.

Jughead starts to drop his hands. They’re feeling a little tingly after all this time.

“No,” the remaining unnamed FBI agent snaps. 

Toni glares at the agent and says, “They’re fine. Betty, Jughead, put your hands down. There are things we could arrest you for, but we aren’t going to.”

Toni puts her gun in her holster. Her whole demeanor shifts slightly. She still looks like an FBI agent, but there’s also hints of who she really is, in the way she stands now, not posed to shoot, but comfortable, almost slouching.

“What did we do wrong?” Jughead spits. He has a lot of anger inside right now, an unprecedented amount, and he can’t help but let some of it out. 

“You broke into the Sheriff’s house.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“They bugged our house,” Betty says. Her tone is angry but confident. Jughead’s pleased but surprised by the use of the word our, but then the context sets in.

Jughead’s shocked, then mortified. He hopes it was just an audio recording. But even if it was just an audio recording it was violating. So many important moments in his and Betty’s lives have taken place in this house. He’s told her things that he’s never spoken out loud before. 

The idea that a stranger was paid by the government to listen to their bedtime chats, was revolting. He couldn’t help but feel a little nauseous. 

For the first time, he’s grateful he hasn’t said “I love you” yet, even though he’s thought about it many times, because the idea that the FBI would hear even that, is too much.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Toni says, then she dismisses the remaining FBI agent, who looks put out by the whole situation, as if he’s upset not to have arrested anyone else. 

“Isn’t bugging us illegal?” Jughead asks.

“We won’t press charges if you don’t.” Toni says with a wink as if it’s a joke.

“I think you owe us some answers and you need to debug the place.” As far as Jughead was concerned, that’s the least they could do.

“We can handle that on our own Jug. We can’t trust them to do that. We can however send them the bill,” Betty says. 

Only then does he realize that she’s beside him now, her hand in his. 

“Fine,” Toni says. “There are more important things we need to talk about. Betty, could you make us coffee?”

“Sure.” Betty says in a tone that makes Jughead think she might spit in Toni’s cup.

Toni sits down at the kitchen table and waits. Jughead sits down across from her and stares. “You interrupted our first date.”

“Sorry about that,” Toni says with a shrug. “You really should have got on that sooner.”

Jughead hates that she’s rubbing in the fact that his life had been eavesdropped on, his sacred moments shared unknowingly. His fist clenches beneath the table. Toni doesn’t notice, instead she turns towards Betty and says, “Get another mug. My boss is coming.”

Betty nods and grabs another just as there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’ll grab that,” Toni says. She comes back with a tall, brown haired man, his face angular, his eyes brown. Nothing about him stands out except his height. His weight and build seem average in every way. 

Jughead could have seen him before and never noticed him. He’s a little worried that’s the case.

“This is my boss, Oscar Porter,” Toni says. “Oscar, this is Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones, Jellybean’s brother.”

Agent Porter nods a greeting, his lips pursed together in such a way that it seemed unlikely that he would ever speak.

“Wasn’t Jelly’s boss named Steven?” Betty asks, a confused look on her face. It’s true, Jughead had forgotten that bit in her diary.

Jughead is reminded again of the pressure Steven and Toni put on Jelly to terminate her pregnancy. Every time he thinks he can’t get any angrier, he’s proven wrong. 

Although maybe the reason Steven isn’t here now is because he got fired for failing Jelly. Jughead hopes that is true before Toni says, “Steven transferred to another job about three months ago. Agent Porter took over right before Jelly died.”

“So you didn’t really know Jelly?” Betty asks.

Agent Porter shakes his head, “I only met her once.” The expression on his face is unreadable.

They all sit down at the table together, their mugs in hand and Jughead feels like they’re stuck in some horrible comedy sketch. 

Everyone is silent at first. Only Toni seems comfortable, leaning back in her chair and taking leisurely sips. Betty’s hand rests on Jughead’s leg, probably to encourage it to bounce less. He tries to focus on that small blessing.

“We know Sweet Pea killed Jelly,” Toni says, breaking the silence.

Jughead’s a little shocked that the FBI figured out something they didn’t. How do they know that Sweet Pea killed Jellybean?

As much as Sweet Pea has always been on Betty and Jughead’s suspect list, he never believed Sweet Pea actually committed the crime. He thinks FP’s speculation about a murderer for hire, a trade of sorts is much closer to the truth, if Sweet Pea was involved at all.

Finally, Jughead breaks the silence by saying, “What evidence do you have against Sweet Pea?”

“We have his fingerprints right next to the break line on your sister’s car,” Agent Porter says. 

The detail about Sweet Pea’s fingerprints being there strikes Jughead as incorrect. Betty and he have the police reports from the CSI. No usable prints were found. Besides what the hell did Sweet Pea know about bombs? Jughead was pretty sure that his job for the Serpents involved drugs, not explosives.

Jughead is about to say something to that end when Betty jams her heel into his ankle sharply, Jughead tries not to wince as she asks, “What was his motive?”

He tries to be mad at Betty for changing the subject, but he knows better than that. If she shut him up, it was probably for a good reason.

“You heard him out there. He found out that Jelly worked for us.”

“But how did he find out?” Betty asks. It’s a good question, one they don’t have an answer to already.

Agent Porter leans forward, rests his chin on his palm and says, “She was wearing a wire. He found it by putting his hand in the wrong place at the wrong time. She told us. We were going to pull her out, but it didn’t work out.”

“Why not?” 

“We thought we had more time. Sweet Pea found out the day before she was killed,” Toni said. “He kept telling her he wouldn’t hurt her. Even when he was screaming at her. She was supposed to meet him at the Whyte Wyrm the night she was killed. We thought he loved her.”

Jughead was pretty sure that Sweet Pea did, even after the horrible thing he said in the living room. But people killed their loved ones all the time

“So why did you have our place bugged?” Jughead asks.

Toni shrugs and says, “To see what you knew. The minute you walked into the Whyte Wyrm I thought you might be investigating. We put the bugs in after that. We already had all the evidence we needed to prove that Sweet Pea killed your sister. We just couldn’t arrest him right away without putting the whole operation at risk. Years of work has gone into bringing down the Serpents. We were so close.”

Jughead seethes with anger. The greater good is an argument he’s never been particularly good at understanding. Betty must sense his anger because her hand moves to his lower back and presses against it through his shirt.

“How come you arrested him now?” Betty asks calmly.

“Yesterday he was caught at the border with drugs. The agents who stopped him there were ordered by the FBI to let him go after holding him for a few hours. He was our person of interest first. They were reluctant to let him go but they agreed to it, confiscating the drugs first. They made up a claim that they screwed up the search procedure so they had to let him go. The entire situation was filmed.” Agent Porter answers. 

That explains Sweet Pea’s mood yesterday. The urgent reason that he had to hold Junebug. 

“We are planning to use the evidence from the border against Sweet Pea to force him to turn on the Serpents in order to get amnesty. He’s already in trouble with the Serpents for losing all those drugs. Tall Boy threatened to give him a lower rank among other, more painful options. Told him if he had to replace his tattoo he would start by removing the old one with his knife. All that pressure should make it easier to flip him. We think he knows most of what’s happening in this chapter of the organization. We’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for over a year,” Toni says.

“So your plan is to use Sweet Pea’s testimony against the Serpents and then once that situations resolved, charge him with Jelly’s murder?” Betty says. Jughead has no idea how her mind works that fast, he’s just glad that it does.

Jughead can’t help himself from saying, “Fuck that. You are going to delay him going to jail by years.”

“Just a year. No plural needed,” Toni says calmly. “It’s not ideal, but it will make a huge difference. The Serpents are all over the states, but this is one of the largest and most successful chapters. They run millions of dollars over the border every year. This will save a lot of lives.”

Jughead doesn’t think it’s nearly that simple, he’s about to go on an angry rant, but before he can yell, Betty says, “We helped you, didn’t we? Getting Minneta’s files was part of why you are finally making progress.”

“It was a factor. Not as big as Sweet Pea’s arrest, but significant. We never knew how deeply Minetta was involved before you photographed those ledgers,” Agent Porter says, stiffly, as if giving them any credit is painful to him.

“But they won’t work as proof. We photographed them illegally,” Betty says stiffly.

“Knowing what you saw, regardless of how you saw it was enough for the judge. We got our warrant. Minneta was arrested half an hour before we got here, his ledger is in custody.”

“Did you find anything else?” Betty asks.

“Not that we can tell you about,” Agent Porter says smugly. “We aren’t going to tell you anymore than we already have. The case is closed. Please stop investigating.”

Jughead can’t help but mumble, “Why do people keep telling us that?” under his breath. Toni sends him a sharp look.

“So you aren’t going to let us talk to Sweet Pea?” Betty asks. “We might be able to appeal to him on a personal level, because of Junebug.”

“No,” Toni says. “You have to stop investigating. This is over.”

“Fine,” Betty says, although this time Jughead knows better than to believe her. Even though there’s no hint that she’s lying in the tone of her voice. 

When the door shuts behind Agent Porter and Toni, Betty puts a finger to her lips, a good reminder that even here, in their own home they are not safe. She grabs the baby monitor and they shove their shoes and coats back on and go outside.

It’s clear that the backyard’s never been particularly well maintained. Even in the middle of winter, it looks a little out of control. 

There’s a bench near the back fence that isn’t completely collapsing. They sit on that. Jughead’s hand is firmly holding Betty’s even though his whole body feels like it’s vibrating with energy.

“We will hire someone to scan the house for bugs tomorrow,” Betty says, although Jughead knows that realistically it will be a few days before anyone can come. Even then it will be hard to believe that they aren’t being eavesdropped on. Still it’s not like they can move in the middle of all this.

“Ok,” he says. What he desperately wants right now is to go back to their date, to kissing her, to be with her in every way in the comfort of her bed. But that just doesn’t seem safe now.

“Do you believe Sweet Pea killed Jelly?” Betty asks, her gaze meeting his. In the dark her expression is hard to see, but he knows that it is a serious question.

“No. Maybe the Serpent’s got someone else to, like my dad said, but it wasn’t him.”

Betty nods and then asks, “Why?”

“I don’t think he could. Sweet Pea can be an asshole, but I don’t think he would kill the mother of his child. If he did, he would have gone crazy by now. Even when he warned us against investigating, it was Gladys not Jelly he was worried about us investigating. That wouldn’t be the case If he had killed Jelly.”

“None of that will hold up in court against a fingerprint,” Betty says softly.

“Do you think he did it?” Jughead asks.

“No. But I think it’s going to be hard to prove otherwise. The FBI seems determined that he did it.”

“Do you think they set Sweet Pea up?”

“Yes. There’s no way he killed Jelly. Besides, nothing else explains the contradictory police reports. Although I’m sure they’ve gotten rid of them by now.”

Jughead feels exhausted. Nothing really makes sense to him now. He thinks if someone told him that he likes burgers right now, he’d be skeptical. 

This first date with Betty should have ended so differently than this. Now they’re stuck in the cold outside of their own house because of government surveillance. It’s not like Jughead feels safe to even kiss inside it. He doesn’t want his first time with Betty to be marred by worry about what a bug might overhear. 

A few months ago, he trusted most of what people told him, now outside of Betty, it was hard to imagine trusting anyone. 

“Do you think Toni set him up?” He knows that at one time Betty considered Toni to be a friend, so the question must sting. 

Betty doesn’t seem upset by it at all. She shrugs and says, “Maybe. I don’t think Agent Porter has been here long enough to interfere, but I could be wrong. The timing of his transfer is strange. I don’t know why they would change supervisors so deep into a case.” 

Jughead nods, “We have to get access to Sweet Pea. I think he wanted to tell us something important tonight. I think that’s why the FBI interrupted him. I think he knows something we don’t. Maybe it’s not the identity of the murderer, but maybe it is.”

“Fuck,” Betty says, and the word sounds a little unnatural on her tongue. In all their time together Jughead hadn’t even heard her swear when she stubbed a toe. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

They just need to get access to Sweet Pea. Jughead was sure if they were able to talk to him now, they would be able to get the truth from him, even if he was giving the FBI the silent treatment. 

They stay outside for a few minutes more. By the time Jughead gets inside his fingers tingle with cold. They go to bed together, not in the way he had hoped for, but hand in hand, not saying anything that a stranger could hear. 

The next day starts with a flurry of phone calls and Betty finding a PI in Greendale who could come in and sweep the house for bugs the next morning, which would be New Years Eve. It seemed strange that holidays would continue to happen in the midst of turmoil.

Jughead kept waiting for a Serpent or five to stop by and enquire about Sweet Pea, but no one called or knocked.

Junebug spends a solid fifteen minutes doing something one could only describe as baby pushups.

“Any day now, she’ll crawl,” Betty says as she makes a big pot of tortilla soup. 

“She’ll crawl today,” Jughead declares, although not seriously. 

His phone rings and he checks the caller ID. He’s surprised to see that it’s Veronica. Even though they get along, she’s always been more of a texter. He can’t even think of the last time she called, still that’s all the more reason to pick up.

“Are you OK?” he asks into the phone.

“Did you know?” Veronica shouts back. He can tell that she’s been crying. Her voice gives that secret away.

“About what?” 

“Archie’s child.”

Jughead drops his phone. Junebug with glee in her eyes, pushes herself onto all fours and lurches forwards towards it. It’s not exactly a crawl, more like a lunge collapse, but it’s close.

Jughead’s so busy being astonished and angry that he doesn’t even realize Junebug has the phone and is babbling into it.

“What’s going on?” Betty asks from the other side of the counter. 

“Junebug crawled and Archie has a secret love child,” Jughead manages to respond as he bends down and manages to get the phone out of Junebug’s hands. Junebug screams angrily, but only for a moment.

Jughead presses the phone against his ear and says, “Sorry about that. Junebug just crawled for the first time”

“I heard,” Veronica says softly.

“Veronica, I had no idea that Archie had a kid. I would have told you if I knew. I swear”.

“I figured.”

“How old is it?” Jughead asks. Wishing that there was some safer question to put forward, one that didn’t bring up fidelity and feelings. 

Jughead had seen Archie break a wide variety of hearts for years before meeting Veronica, but he’d always believed that Archie had been faithful to her. From their very first date, Archie had always behaved as if Veronica was different. A week in he’d called Veronica endgame, and while Jughead had rolled his eyes, he also thought it was probably true.

“Four,” Veronica says. “This happened before he met me...”

“Fuck,” Jughead says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Junebug starts to tug at Jughead’s pant leg and he can’t help but pick her up and hold her in his arms. 

Jughead had never understood how Sweet Pea had walked away from Junebug, yet Archie, his own best friend, had done something much worse, much longer.

The fact that Archie kept that secret for all that time feels as much as a betrayal as Jughead’s private moments being audio recorded.

“How did you find out?”

“I found a text from the baby mama,” Veronica says.

“Fuck,” Jughead says again. “I can’t believe we didn’t know about this. Has he known about it the whole time?”

“I don’t know. He won’t talk to me about any of this. That’s why I called you. He’ll tell you things he won’t tell me.”

Betty washes her hands and takes Junebug from his arms, twirling her around the room.

“Why would he tell me?”

“Because you’re his oldest friend. He wouldn’t even tell me if the kid was a boy or a girl, or how much the mom wanted him involved in its life. Nothing beyond the year of conception really. But I think he wants to tell someone now, someone he’s not in a romantic relationship with.”

Jughead wonders if the FBI bugs can hear Veronica’s side of the conversation or just his. Either way it’s probably pretty confusing.

“Are you still together?” Jughead asks. He might as well know going into this. He hasn’t agreed to talk to Archie yet, but he’s sure Veronica knows that he will.

“I think so. I mean, I’m fucking furious, but he never said he was leaving me, and I never said I was leaving him.” Veronica pauses. Her breath so heavy Jughead can hear it across the line. 

“I’ll call him,” Jughead says.

Veronica thanks him, and he thinks he can hear her crying again, but he’s not sure.

He gets off the phone and Betty wraps him a hug. Junebug is sandwiched in the middle and she makes a small gurgle of happiness. Jughead feels like crying. Instead he repeats everything to Betty. She doesn’t seem shocked, not even in the slightest. 

“The way he behaved over the holidays makes a lot more sense now,” Betty says. 

“Shit.” 

Everything is fitting into place. Archie was so pissed at Jughead for doing what Archie should have done years ago. It explained Archie’s anger towards Betty. It had nothing to do with Betty and everything to do with projecting.

Jughead calls Archie, but the call goes straight to voicemail. He doubts that he’ll be able to get anything more out of Archie than Veronica was, but he has to try. 

He tries again after lunch. There’s still no answer.

Jughead manages to coax both Junebug and Betty into a snuggle nap that helps calm him a little, or at least it does until his phone starts to ring. He picks it up

“She told you,” is all Archie says on the other end of the line.

Jughead says nothing, instead he focuses on extracting himself from bed quietly. Betty and Junebug are still sleeping, Betty’s arm is around Junebug’s waist. Betty stirs slightly but stays asleep. 

Once he’s in the hallway Jughead finally says, “Yes. Although now that I think about it, your behavior at Christmas makes a lot more sense.”

“Damnit.”

“Why didn’t you tell her? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I didn’t really believe Diane at first,” Archie says. Archie has never mentioned a Diane before, but it must be the mother of his child. “She was on the pill. Or that’s what she told me anyways.”

“The pill isn’t fool proof,” Jughead says.

“I get that.” Archie sighs. “I mean she didn’t me till a couple months ago. I don’t get it. Why not tell me when she was pregnant. Hell, she could have told me once he was born. She waited till he was kid. She named him James. She made all sorts of choices for him, that I had no role in.”

“Oh.” Jughead says, and it feels a little like playing dominoes. One secret leading to another.

“It would have been different if she told me back then,” Archie says. “I swear.”

Jughead gets that. This wasn’t something Archie had hidden for years, but something that had surprised him unexpectedly. 

“I get that. But why didn’t you tell Veronica earlier? Or me, at least. I would have helped you figure it out.”

“Maybe, it’s just you had just become a father unexpectedly, and you seemed so happy with it. You handled getting custody of Junebug like it was no big deal, while I felt like my life had imploded.”

It’s so strange to hear Archie describe what Jughead’s situation looked like from the outside. At the time Jughead had been panicking. The ordered life he lived was changed, unexpectedly, permanently. It didn’t seem like it was for the better at first, either. 

“That wasn’t anywhere as easy as it looked,” Jughead says honestly. “But I don’t know who I would be without Junebug and Betty.”

There’s a moment of loaded silence which Jughead breaks by asking, “Why did Diane tell you now?”

“Diane says she’s sick and now she needs help: childcare, insurance, money, etc. I think it’s just about that damned engagement announcement Veronica insisted on printing in the Herald.”

Jughead’s a little confused so he asks, “You think Diane contacted you because she’s jealous of Veronica?”

Archie laughs “Hell no. I think she’s after Veronica’s money.” 

That makes more sense, but still if Diane’s sick, she’s sick, there’s no way around that.

“You know James is yours for sure, right?”

Archie sighs, “The first thing I did was a paternity test. I’m sure.”

“Don’t you want to know James?”

On the other end of the line there’s silence and finally Archie huffs out, “Maybe? I guess? It’s hard to think I might lose Veronica over a kid I’ve never even met.”

Jughead laughs, he can’t help himself. “I think the issue Veronica has is that you kept this from her. I think the child, in and of itself, is not the issue.” Jughead thinks Archie is behaving like an idiot in all this. He’s making it seem like an either or situation when it isn’t one..

“Really?” Archie sounds surprised. Which is strange because Jughead watched Veronica play with Junebug over the holidays and even he could see how much she loved children.

Plus, he knew how much Veronica loved Archie. If she knew this was a mistake, a surprise, a secret held for months and not years, she would forgive him. Right now, Veronica was busy imagining the worst because Archie wasn’t telling her the truth.

“Really,” Jughead says. “Tell her everything. She needs to know the truth.”

“People think they want to know the truth all the time, Jug. But when they find out what it is, they change their mind.”

Jughead wondered if that statement applied to how Archie felt about finding out about James, but he knew better than to ask. 

I know Veronica. She is not one to shy away from the truth spoken to or by her. She loves you and telling her what’s actually happening will only help the situation.”

On the other end of the line Archie sighs, “Yeah, you’re right. I trust you.”

“You should. I love you. You fucked up here, but you can still fix it. But don’t just focus on Veronica. You need to meet James, fix things with him and Diane.”

“What if I’m a terrible dad?”

“Archie, I know you, and you’re better than no dad at all.”

Archie’s laugh sounds a little forced, but it’s genuine. “Ok, I’ll try.”

“You better.”

Jughead hears the springs in the mattress shift and he wonders if Betty’s getting up. But the bedroom door is still closed when Archie says, “I will.”

Jughead resists the temptation to scoff, because unless Archie finds a way to invent time travel there is no way to make it right. James had four years without a father, for one thing. There is no getting that time back.

Still he knows that Archie needs encouragement right now, he needs hope, so Jughead says, “You can try. You should try.”

The call ends soon after that with Archie promising updates and transparency, and apologizing again for how he treated Betty. By the time Jughead hangs up, he thinks Archie might actually be able to muddle through all this with the same strange luck he’s always had.

“Jug,” Betty says, her hand is already on his back and he hadn’t even realized she was standing beside him. “Are you ok?”

“I talked to Archie. He just found out about the baby a couple months ago and didn’t handle it well. I should call Veronica. Maybe you could talk to her after? I know she would like that.” Jughead suggests. 

“I get it,” Betty says. “I want to talk to Veronica too.”

In this moment Jughead wants nothing more than to say I love you to Betty, but he doesn’t want to say such sacred words in a bugged house. Instead he presses a kiss to her lips and then whispers the word “later” into her mouth, before she kisses him back. 

Later that night, they sit in the backyard again, the baby monitor on. After telling each other everything they couldn’t all day, they kiss for twenty minutes, their lips warm, tongues hot, even while their fingers grow stiff from the cold. 

Finally, Betty pulls back and says, “I love you.”

“I can’t believe you beat me to it,” Jughead says out of shock. “I love you too.”

“I know,” Betty says softly. She’s never looked so beautiful, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkle with excitement and confidence.

“How?” Jughead asks. “Are you a mind reader?”

Betty laughs, “If I was, we would have solved this case a long time ago. You are a sleep talker.”

Jughead never knew that about himself. There’s never been anyone to tell him that before. “When did I say it?”

“Last night.”

“Well, I loved you before that, even.”

Betty smiles and places her hand on his, “Me too.” 

Even though it’s so cold the tip of his nose feels frozen, Jughead can’t stop himself from kissing her again. When he pulls back a few minutes later he can’t stop himself from saying, “Damn the FBI.”

He’s not going to give them an audio show, no matter how tempting it is. 

They spend another half an hour out back, trying to figure out how to talk to Sweet Pea, and occasionally being sidetracked by kissing.

In the morning Betty phones Toni five times, asking to see Sweet Pea. Toni never even bothers to pick up the phone. Betty’s not even sure if she’s listening to her voicemails but that doesn’t stop her from leaving them.

Eventually, at eleven, while Junebug is playing with a jam jar lid as if it is the most fascinating thing in the world, Betty gets a text back that says, “Please stop.” 

Betty just seems to be glad that Toni is responding and re-doubles her efforts. After lunch the PI shows up. He’s scruffy looking and introduces himself as Tom Haas, which feels like an alias, but he manages to find 15 bugs, so Jughead decides he must be all right. There’s even one in the garage. Thankfully the car was clean. 

“Whoever bugged you was thorough,” Tom says as he gives them the bill. “I think they might even be professionals.”

Jughead can’t stop himself from snarking, “They most certainly were.” He just wants Tom to leave and Junebug to fall asleep. 

Tom leaves easily, with a half hearted wave. Junebug fights sleep like it’s her job, but finally, midway through Betty singing Baby Beluga for the fiftieth time, Junebug falls asleep.

They make it to the bedroom quickly and strip without ceremony. Betty barely making it out of her pants as Jughead kisses her neck. 

But after that, when they are both naked. He scoots back to admire Betty, the way she is without any disguises. 

Then they are kissing. Their bodies press and push against each other. It feels so good for their skin to touch like this. Holy, almost.

There are occasional moments of awkwardness, of figuring out how their bodies fit, but as the movement builds between them Jughead’s mind slips from his body and all he feels is joy. 

After, his lips are pressed against the back of Betty’s neck as she says, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I always want to have this with you.” She says that sentence tentatively, quietly, as if it is something that is controversial, when it isn’t in the slightest. 

Jughead knows he has to reassure her otherwise. He’s never been so sure of anything, and besides that, they are already partners in everything. “I want nothing more than the same thing.”

“Good. I have enough doubt in my life outside of this.” 

Jughead laughs and sits up, he places one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder. “I’ve never been vulnerable with anyone the way I am with you.”

Betty sits up, her body naked and unguarded by limbs, beautiful in every way. There’s an inquisitive look on her face. “Is that a good thing?” she asks.

“It’s the best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So chapter 10 is in revisions, and there is a small chance it will be posted before Wednesday but no promises. 
> 
> I'm not going to complain about my week (month really), but I will say I'm exhausted. 
> 
> I'm so curious to hear your theories and feedback. Thank you so much for sticking with me so far. Your comments mean the world to me.


	10. Tumbling Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to KittiLee for the beta, and being the best. I'm so lucky you guys.
> 
> This is the most nervous I've ever been to publish a chapter. The most!

The holiday ends and Betty returns to work and Jughead starts taking Junebug to storytime at the library, where he’s the only man in the room. 

Their life is the same in most ways. Betty works and Jughead takes care of Junebug. They eat healthy dinner’s at the kitchen table. They take evening walks as a family, Junebug bundled in the stroller. They kiss. They text. They hold hands. They have sex.

They also investigate together. Although that’s going slow. The case is allegedly closed after all. 

Most nights they review the timeline and the list of words that might be significant from Jelly’s journal. 

Some of the words like Viper, Saw, Cotton, Wire, Door, Sunbeam, Jughead sees in his dreams every night, but they have entirely lost any real world meaning. 

As frustrating as those words were, they seemed like the only obvious clues to proceed on. They’d even gone through Jelly’s journals again hoping to find more words to add, but found nothing. 

Betty had hoped that Agent Porter would be mentioned, but the last entry from Jelly was dated a week before her death, and had no mention of him.

Now two fundamental things have changed. The first is that even if they aren’t making any progress at the moment, Jughead still feels like they are on the cusp of solving everything. 

It’s as if they have found the secret door, they just haven’t found out how to open it yet Betty is convinced that Sweet Pea is the key to this and talking to him will allow them to open it.

Betty texts Toni dozens of times every day. Toni texts them back every few days. Sweet Pea still hasn’t broken but she’s convinced it’s only a matter of time.

The second change is that Betty and he now share a bedroom. Jughead makes a joke about moving too fast before agreeing to it, but it is just a joke. Betty knows it too, because she ribs him back.

Jughead doesn’t tell Archie about the new level of cohabitation, but Veronica knows because Betty tells her over skype.

A “congratulations you now share a bed” gift arrives from Veronica the next day, a sheet set with an impossibly high thread count. Betty refuses to use them because they are too nice.

Veronica and Archie are in a strange limbo state. Archie’s living with Fred for the time being, but they aren’t officially broken up, according to Veronica. Archie’s met James and every time he talks about him, he sounds so happy, so surprised by his smart and clever son. 

On the second Saturday in January, it’s rainy and glum, but they are making the best of it with coffee and cuddling on the sofa. 

Junebug is not part of the cuddling or the coffee. Instead she’s crawling around the room as if she’s training for some sort of baby athletic event. Each day she seems more coordinated, more sure of herself.

Betty’s phone rings and Jughead, too caught up in the joy of the moment, asks her to ignore it. So she does. Except as soon as the ringing stops it starts up again. 

Betty looks at the caller ID and says, “It’s Toni,” and then picks it up.

She and Toni might have been texting everyday but this whole time, Toni’s never called them.

Jughead can’t help but hope that this call has significance. Apparently, he’s right. Not only does Toni want them to come down to the building where they are holding Sweet Pea, but she wants them to do it as soon as possible. 

Thankfully Tina’s happy to take over, although she keeps winking at them, as if helping the FBI is some sort of awkward code for emergency sex. 

(That’s what nap times are for, after all). 

The FBI are holed up on the edge of town in an abandoned nunnery. The building itself is enough to give Jughead chills, but he can’t help but want to write it into his next novel. It has mystery written all over it. 

Toni greets them at the door and leads them past a plastic intake booth. “We can’t get him to admit that the Serpents are responsible for anything. He confessed to running drugs, but said he did it for himself.”

“And you don’t think it’s true?” Jughead asks. 

“It’s not. But if you think he’ll tell you about it, you should try and get through to him. If he doesn’t flip on the Serpents, he’s going away for a very long time. Maybe stressing how much Junebug will miss him will help.”

Jughead’s pretty sure Junebug would miss him or Betty if something happened to them, but a sporadic visitor like Sweet Pea wouldn’t make a difference. Still Jughead says, “Fine.”

“Look, I know all you care about is Jelly, but you shouldn’t bring her up. Sweet Pea doesn’t know we have evidence against him.”

Jughead will say anything to get into that room with Sweet Pea at this point. But he doesn’t have to because Betty beats him to it by saying, “Of course.”

“Look, Oscar didn’t want you here, but I went over his head.”

“Does Agent Porter, even know we are here?” Jughead asks.

“Yes, but he doesn’t like it. You’re not going to be able to see him, but he is going to be on the other side of the two-way mirror.”

“Shit.”

Toni’s walking quickly now, down a corridor with cheap linoleum flooring. Religious Icons are still nailed to the walls around them.

Jughead’s spent a lot of time wondering where Toni stands. She’s been undercover for a long time and she’s the one that dragged Jelly into this mess. She could have helped them much earlier but she didn’t. 

Still, seeing her now, her skin pale, her figure gaunt, she looks like she’s beating herself up over something.

“Do you miss her?” 

“Of course I do,” Toni says, an edge to her voice. “We were partners for a long time. I know you blame me. I blame me too.”

Betty stays silent and Jughead can’t help but scoff. Jughead knows that Jelly would have behaved differently if she thought Toni would have her back. 

Toni doesn’t comment, she just leads them to a door. She raps three times on it, and a guard opens the door from the inside.

The room’s sparsely furnished. There’s a table with three chairs, and Sweet Pea is handcuffed to it. He looks a little paler but that could just be the overhead lighting. 

Toni leaves them at the door, but after Betty and Jughead step in, the guard steps in after them. 

When Jughead’s imagined this situation before, he never thought someone else would be there, but it makes sense. On the far side of the room there’s a two-way mirror, but it would take a long time for the people in that room to get to Sweet Pea if anything went south.

Sweet Pea’s staring at them but it takes him over a minute to open his mouth and ask, “How’s Junebug?”

By that time Betty and Jughead are seated in uncomfortable chairs.

“She’s crawling,” Jughead says. He can’t keep the excitement out of his voice, even in these circumstances. “She keeps doing laps of the living room like she’s practicing for the baby olympics.”

“Oh!” The expression on Sweet Pea’s face is a mix of elation and sadness.

Betty turns towards the guard and asks, “Can we show him a video of his daughter crawling?”

“Just one,” The guard says. 

Betty pulls her cell phone out and loads a video. She holds the screen out to Sweet Pea before pressing play.

Jughead can’t see the screen but he knows the video. It’s shot in the living room. Jughead’s feet are visible for a second at the start and then the video follows Junebug as she crawls towards the camera till she faceplants right at the end.

“Ooof. Was she ok?” Sweet Pea asks. There are tears in his eyes.

“Babies are designed to fall on their head,” Jughead says, quoting Junebug’s doctor who had to reassure them of just that, the other day. 

“She’s so fast. So strong,” Sweet Pea says. 

Betty slides the phone back into her pocket. “Don’t you want to spend more time with her?” 

“Yeah.” Sweet Pea adds an eye roll.

“Why not tell us what is going on with Serpents? I know the FBI has offered you your freedom in exchange for it. You could spend time with Junebug again. She misses you.”

Betty is laying it on a bit thick, but Jughead knows that she has to. This is their one chance, not an opportunity to be subtle. 

“Ha!” Sweet Pea laughs. “As if that would ever happen. If I helped the FBI I wouldn’t go to jail for the Serpents, but they’d just pin Jelly’s murder on me instead.”

Jughead wishes he was less shocked by the fact that Sweet Pea’s figured it all out, but he is. It’s good to know that his niece doesn’t have a complete idiot for a father. 

He imagines that behind the two-way mirror the agents are reacting a lot more dramatically.

Jughead’s not sure what they need to say next. Betty and he never thought of this happening. 

Betty leans forwards and says, “We don’t think you killed Jellybean.”

Jughead is as surprised by the line as Sweet Pea, because even though what Betty is saying is true, he’s sure that the FBI will kick them out for saying this truth. 

He can hear a slight buzz and low murmur behind him. He assumes it’s Agent Porter talking to the guard behind him over an earpiece.

But a minute passes and the guard doesn’t move. Agent Porter or Toni or whoever else in this room must have decided it’s a ploy on Betty’s part, a way to win Sweet Pea over. 

Or maybe they decided they don’t care if she’s telling the truth or not, just as long as it gets Sweet Pea to open up. After all, they have to be really desperate to allow Jughead and Betty to talk to him in the first place. 

“We need you to tell us about what the Serpents did,” Jughead says, even though to be honest he’s not all that interested. 

As much as he hates drugs, he suspects they’ll always be a problem. If it isn’t the Serpents making money off them, it’s someone else. 

Sweet Pea laughs and rubs his forearm. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Where’d you get the drugs?” Betty asks.

“We made them ourselves mostly.”

“Where’d they go?” Jughead knows that most of Sweet Pea’s work involves long trips, so if his job wasn’t bringing drugs into Riverdale, it must have involved taking them out.

“I took them to New York City mostly, sometimes up to Canada. Borders are tricky though.” Sweet Pea rubs his left forearm again, and Jughead can’t help but get the impression that he wants to tell them more, that he’s attempting to do it quietly.

Jughead knows they have to keep talking. The longer Sweet Pea has to communicate with them, the higher the odds that he will be able to convey to them something important. He seems to be trying to already, but forearm rubbing isn’t a form of communication Jughead is familiar with. 

In any case, it’s too late to say more. The door opens and Agent Porter walks through grinning like a man who won the lottery. 

“Time’s up. We can take over now,” Agent Porter says.

Jughead’s furious. He stands up. “We aren’t finished.”

“That’s not how this works.” 

“Look, we have custody of his daughter. Can we just ask him one question about her before we go?” Betty says.

Agent Porter grits his teeth, “Sure.”

“How should we raise her?” Betty asks. Her gaze is focused on Sweet Pea. Jughead feels hyper aware of the layers of the question. He doesn’t know how Pea could possibly answer it in a way that is helpful to them. 

Sweet Pea’s silent for a minute, his eyes dark and flashing. “Raise her the way Jelly would. With hard work and love.”   
Then Sweet Pea’s focuses his gaze on Agent Porter before saying, “And it’s important to remember what Jelly always said about baby’s necks.” 

“That’s enough,” Agent Porter says, forcing them away from Sweet Pea and into the hall. 

Agent Porter escorts them out silently. As they approach the front door, Betty trips, her whole body falling forward. Jughead tries to catch her, but he’s not fast enough. Thankfully she grabs onto Agent Porter’s arm and manages somehow to catch herself, although she slips again in the scramble up, both hands are on his arm and his sleeve is pulled up.

In the scramble, Jughead glimpses what looks like a tiger tattooed on Agent Porter’s forearm. Jughead really only sees the head. Most of it’s body is covered by Betty’s hands. Even the head is only visible for a second, in the flurry of movement.

The whole situation is a little awkward, a little slapstick, but then once Betty’s standing steadily, she lets go. “Thanks,” she says.

Porter has a strange look on his face but manages to mumble out something that sounds like, “Anytime.” 

When they leave, they can hear Porter lock the front door behind them.

Betty doesn’t say anything till the car’s on the highway. She’s driving and Jughead can’t help but notice how tightly she’s clenching the wheel.

“That was terrifying,” Betty says.

“What the hell even happened back there? Why’d you grab his forearm like that?”

“Sweet Pea kept rubbing his,” Betty says. “I thought it was a clue.”

“And was it?” Jughead’s pretty skeptical. The tattoo was in poor taste but it hardly seemed criminal. 

“I think it is. I just don’t know what it means,” Betty’s quiet for a second. “What did you think Sweet Pea was trying to say when he brought up baby necks?”

Jughead shrugs “You mean how he started to talk about how Jelly used to say “It’s as dirty as a baby’s neck? You said it was something Jelly said all the time to communicate to you that she didn’t like someone without the person finding out. Maybe Sweet Pea was just feeling nostalgic. What did you think about it?”

“I think what Sweet Pea was saying was that Agent Porter was as dirty as a baby’s neck. But I don’t know how to prove it. I thought seeing his forearm would help, but I don’t know what a tiger has to do with this mess with the Serpents.”

Suddenly it feels like all the pieces, or most of them anyways, are slammed into place.

“Fuck.” Jughead says, and grabs the dash as if somehow it can help him feel more steady. 

“What?” Betty says.

“There’s a kind of snake called a tiger snake,” Jughead says. His throat feels tight. 

“Is there? Why is that relevant?” Betty’s tone is skeptical. 

“Remember what my dad said about the Serpents trying new tattoos out?” Jughead’s honestly starting to feel excited now. 

“But that’s so abstract. Sometimes, a tiger is just a tiger, Jug.” 

But Jughead was thinking about Sweet Pea’s brand new tattoo now. It was of a diamond. Perhaps that was another kind of snake.

Jughead pulls out his phone to check. There are no diamond snakes but there is a diamondback rattle snake. 

Then he remembers the king he saw on the biker when they were out on that date. According to Google there’s a king snake. 

“Betty, I think I’m on to something. Sweet Pea has a diamond on the back of his hand, and a diamondback is a type of rattler. Also remember that biker we saw on our walk? He had that king tattoo? That’s a kind of snake too.”

Betty looks a little shocked at first but slowly a smile blossoms on her face. “I think you’re right. The other day after school a man with a black rat tattooed on his hand was waiting in the parking lot. There are a lot of different rat snakes.”

Jughead googles that to verify, and there is in fact, a black rat snake. He shows a picture of it to Betty when they’re stopped at a light.

That’s when Jughead remembers one other tattoo he saw that seemed strange and unusual. On his last shift at Pop’s there was the ear of corn on Malachi’s friends neck. 

One of Jughead’s co-workers in Chicago, owned a corn snake for a bit. 

By the time they pull into the driveway, Jughead feels ecstatic to have figured this out. A smile tugging at his skin. They’ve worked so hard for this.

They free Tina from Junebug quickly and try to rush Tina out of the house as politely as possible. 

With Junebug wriggling in Betty’s arms, they go through the list they compiled from Jelly’s notebooks. It turns out that several words from the list match up to their current theory.

Sunbeam’s and viper’s are both kinds of snakes. Also the word cotton could stand for cottonmouth. 

Jughead feels jittery. Agent Porter was working for the Serpents. It was clear. But not in a way that was easy to prove. 

Sure they had this theory based on clues, and hints, and the proof was inked on the villain's body, but nothing would hold up in court.

“What do we do next?” Jughead asks out loud, because he honestly can’t think of a single thing, outside of maybe crying. 

If this was a mystery novel the next step would be obvious, and the killer would probably have already attacked them by now. At least that would have made their path forward clear. 

“We tell Toni,” Betty says this confidently. 

“What? No. We can’t trust her.”

“We have to trust someone. I think Agent Porter must have killed Jelly or ordered her death. Even the timing makes sense. I think Toni will see that.”

It takes Betty two days to convince Jughead this is the right next step and even then he’s reluctant. Nervous and on edge. 

This time Toni doesn’t ignore their calls or their texts. She just shows up that night, once Junebug’s asleep, with a bottle of cheap red wine.

“I hate my boss.” is the second sentence out of her mouth.

“I think we can help with that,” Betty says, pouring Toni a glass. 

They start with the report Dr Curdle Junior gave them, and Toni’s shocked. She’s never seen this report before. She assured them that they were nothing like the ones Agent Porter showed her. 

Next up were the tattoos. Jughead was less sure of convincing Toni of this, he was worried about the circumstantial nature of it. 

He didn’t count on Toni already knowing about the new tattoos. Toni herself wasn’t high enough up in the organization to earn one, but she’d heard about them for a bit, before people started clamming up around her, talking less and less freely the last couple of months.

She’d even heard of the Tiger. Only three members, the heads of the U.S. Serpents had them.

“Holy shit,” she says. “I thought he was a dick, but most senior agents are. It comes with the territory. I’ve never seen Oscar’s tattoo and I’m not sure I would have figured it out if I had. Tiger’s aren’t the most unusual tattoo. But it makes so much sense. When he got to town was around the time the Serpents started cutting me out of their business.”

“If he worked for the FBI before, wouldn’t he already have known you were undercover?” Betty asks.

“Hell no. Undercover agents identities are very well protected. Only handlers really know them.”

Jughead had expected Toni to be reluctant to believe them, but that didn’t end up being the case at all. Instead she seemed giddy with relief. She didn’t criticize them for their behavior once.

But that wasn’t the final hurdle. Just telling Toni didn’t change much. She still had to convince internal affairs of the situation. 

Toni leaves at one in the morning and Jughead feels both elated and nervous. They are so close, but still nothing seems guaranteed.

Before they fall asleep that night Jughead says, “We still don’t know that Agent Porter killed Jelly.”

“My gut tells me he did,” Betty replies. 

Jughead prepares himself for a long wait to hear back from internal affairs. Toni had warned them of that.

It’s hard to wait though. His mind keeps thinking about what happened, what’s going on without them there. Maybe Toni’s just stringing them on. Maybe she’s just pretending to be on their side. 

Jughead feels on edge most hours of every day, but he forces himself to run. He plays with Junebug a lot, making little baby obstacle courses out of the Duplo Betty bought. 

The first afternoon after Toni’s visit, Jughead takes Junebug into Pop’s and apologizes in person. 

Pop looks upset at first, and Jughead understands why. Pop took a risk hiring him. But Jughead explains what happened with Malachi, and he apologizes for maybe overreacting, and Pop shakes his head. 

“You have someone to take care of.” Pop’s said. 

Jughead still leaves a tip that breaks his cheapskate heart. Pop’s deserves every bit of that. 

The next night Archie and Veronica video chat. They’ve reunited and Veronica’s meeting James for the first time tomorrow. Veronica laughs and Archie smiles, but it’s easy to tell that they’re both on edge and nervous. 

Jughead’s relieved when they call the next day and they seem more comfortable in their own skin, happy to have spent time with James who Archie calls, “The world’s coolest little dude”.

Still every night Jughead walks laps around the house to work off the nervous energy. 

It isn’t till a week later that Toni drops by with a USB key. She plugs it into the side of Betty’s laptop and they watch Agent Porter confess to killing Jelly. He confesses in the same tone he would hold any conversation. His postures relaxed.

On the table in front of him are the bombmaking supplies they found hidden under the floor of his basement. The supplies were leftover odds and ends from a bomb exactly like the one that took out Jelly’s break line.

In the video Toni’s pacing back and forth in front of Agent Porter’s chair. Agent Porter never hesitates to make eye contact with her.

At one point, Agent Porter looks into Toni’s eyes and says, “She never really suffered. It was a painless way to die. A simple bomb, a simple accident.”

Agent Porter looks indifferent. The onscreen Toni shakes with anger. The Toni watching it with them looks away from the screen and out the window.

“Why did you kill her?” Toni asks. 

“She knew what the tattoo’s meant in terms of the Serpents and she saw mine. If you’d seen it, I would have done the same.” His tone is calm. It’s calculated and restrained. 

Betty cries, and Jughead leaves the house and screams into the emptiness of the backyard till the cold grass on his bare feet force him back inside.

That night they hold onto each other as if it’s a matter of survival, and perhaps it is. 

They talk on and off all night, waking up every hour or so, to reassure each other that they are alive, that they love each other. 

Sometimes Betty will start to speculate wildly about everything that could go wrong and Jughead calms her down each time by saying, “We still have each other.”

In the early hours of the morning, Betty brings a sleeping Junebug into bed with them. After that they sleep more soundly. Junebug’s low steady breaths helping them fall asleep and stay there

Jughead doesn’t know what will happen next, but he didn’t expect to open the doors to their bungalow two days later and discover five reporters camped out with microphones. 

Naturally Jughead slammed the door in their faces and then looked up the local newspaper. It turns out he shouldn’t have limited himself to that. The story had even made the front page of the New York Times.

The night before, the FBI had arrested Agent Porter and over half of the Southside Serpents, as well as members from chapters of the Serpents throughout the United States.

It was a coup. There was a photo of a smiling Toni Topaz on the cover of every newspaper across the country, it seemed. Her life as an undercover agent was over, clearly. 

The focus of all the articles was on the drug bust and crime ring, as well as the FBI’s involvement. None of the papers spent much time on Jelly’s death, or on the life she lived before it. She was a footnote and so were Betty and Jughead.

Jughead’s relived to be a footnote, but he’s angry with Jellybean’s position as one. She gave up so much to be reduced to a paragraph or two in a three page story. 

Still it’s good that the case is closed, more or less, and Agent Porter is awaiting trial, and all of the secrets Jughead and Betty have kept for so long now are out in the open and no one is threatening to kill them. 

Jughead texted Betty, who it turns out found out about the same time he did, except from students instead of reporters. 

They were mentioned in the papers as heroes. Thankfully their photos weren’t included which gave them a little bit of anonymity outside of Riverdale. 

Veronica and Archie phoned him right away, shocked and interested in the real scoop. It was the first time Jughead had talked to either of them since Christmas where the focus wasn’t on James, Diane, or the (tenuous) health of Veronica and Archie’s relationship.

It was actually refreshing in a way.

The land line rang off and on all day and Jughead started to get joy out of picking it up and saying, “No comment.” before slamming it down again. 

All day Jughead has to remind himself that the case is closed, that Jelly’s killer is brought to justice and there is nothing more to investigate. 

It still feels surreal. There’s a niggling itch at the back of his brain, like there’s something he needs to do that he hasn’t done yet. 

He keeps trying to tell that part of himself, that it’s over, that he and Betty solved the case. But somehow it feels like the case will never be solved. 

Sweet Pea drops by in the mid afternoon, knocking on the backdoor because he’d scaled the garden fence to avoid reporters. He swears he’s not on the lamb and that his protective detail is on the other side of the fence.

Junebug crawls circles around him and Jughead makes coffee. 

“I’m going into the witness protection program,” Sweet Pea says. “Everyone knows I ratted and they’re out for blood.”

“Snakes eat rodents after all.” Jughead jokes. 

Sweet Pea snorts and then says, “I was so mad when I found that wire on Jelly. But I would never have killed her. I didn’t even work up the courage to tell the other Serpents.”

“I know.” 

“I blame myself.” 

“Don’t.” Jughead says, and then realizing his hypocrisy he adds, “I also blame myself for being the reason she went undercover in the first place. I’m trying to figure it out.”

“I hope you do,” Sweet Pea says.

Junebug starts tugging at Sweet Pea’s pant leg and he picks her up. She presses her cheek against his coat, even though it still looks wet from the rain outside. 

“I’m not going to be able to see her, or you guys for at least a year. But I’m going to be able to write.”

“Will you though?” Jughead asks. He feels a little skeptical about this. He can’t imagine Sweet Pea writing a letter, but maybe a four line postcard every once in a while.

“Of course!” Sweet Pea looks miffed at Jughead’s skepticism. “I love her, you know that, right?”

Sweet Pea might not be the best dad around, and he’s certainly not the most involved, but his love is clear. He cares for Junebug, and once he cared for Jellybean too, even if he didn’t always know how to take care of either of them. 

“I do.” 

“I even like you and Betty together,” Sweet Pea says. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes when he said it. “Do you know how happy your sister would be about you two? She always wanted to set you up.” 

“Betty told me.” 

“I wish I could tell her about that. I was always skeptical. Betty seemed too guarded for love. But Jelly knew her better than that.”

Sweet Pea leaves before Betty returns home. She’s clearly exhausted. All the students have questions for her during class that have nothing to do with English. In between classes she was constantly bombarded by other teachers questions. 

Jughead knows they got off relatively light, all things considered. He’s happy to have Toni in the spotlight and she seems happy to be there. She makes the cover of Time the following week. 

They never hear anything from her, which is a bit disappointing. No “thank you for solving the case that made my career” cupcakes ever darken their doorway. 

Betty on the other hand makes the best ever mango cupcakes as a thank you gift for Dr. Curdle Junior. Jughead finally meets him, and he is every bit as weird as he anticipated, which is to say that they spend way too much time talking about serial killers. 

The Whyte Wyrm is put up for sale, and Jughead doesn’t catch a glimpse of any Serpent jackets or mysterious tattoos around town. It’s as if all the Serpents that weren’t arrested have gone underground.

Three days after the story breaks, FP calls and Jughead picks up. He’s not sure why, really. He’s even less sure once FP starts swearing at him, calling him a traitor. 

Finally, once FP stops ranting Jughead says, “Are you the reason the Serpents killed Gladys?”

Jughead’s wanted to ask this question for a while now, but it still feels strange to say it out loud.

“Hell no,” FP says. “Gladys stole from the Serpents. A whole shit ton of drugs. She called it her way out, but it was theft plain and simple.”

“How did the Serpents know she stole it?” Jughead asked.

“I told them. She did the wrong thing, boy. She had to pay. Preferably not with her life, but what happened, happened.” 

Jughead seethes with anger. It feels like something is alive in his veins. He wants to do nothing more than slam down the phone and scream. Instead he asks, “Do you regret telling the Serpents where she was?”

There’s silence for a minute and then a sharp, “No.”

Jughead’s so overwhelmed, he doesn’t even know how to respond. Just a few weeks ago FP had said he cared about Jelly, yet his actions kept reveling where his loyalties actually lay. It was despicable. 

“The Serpents killed your wife and your daughter and you did nothing.” Jughead slams the phone into it’s cradle. It’s so much more satisfying to hang up on land lines. 

The phone rings again a minute later. Jughead doesn’t pick up. Instead he pulls the plug out of the wall. 

After two weeks pass, most people seem to have forgotten Betty and Jughead’s involvement in the case entirely. 

Except for the local sheriff’s department, who offers Jughead the job of interim sheriff with the possibility of the position becoming permanent. 

It’s a bit of a shock really. Jughead has no formal training at all. Still he has to consider it. 

Betty says she supports him either way. He gets that. He feels the same way about her life choices.

As much as Jughead has bad memories in Riverdale, he likes the idea of staying, of helping it change and become better, of ushering a new era, free of corruption.

Plus, he appreciates the irony of the person who broke into the old sheriff's house, becoming the new sheriff. 

He’s supposed to tell them his decision by noon on Saturday. He can’t really sleep the night before, and for once that’s not Junebug’s fault.

Around 6 AM, Betty gives up trying to sleep either and they go for an early walk with Junebug strapped to Jughead’s chest. 

They end up at Sweetwater River, more by default than by choice. It’s cold, but beautiful, the sun just now rising, blessing the water and trees with glints of light. 

No one else is there because of the early hour, and they talk about the choices Jughead has to make, the different ways it will affect each of them, Junebug included (Jughead hates the idea of putting her in childcare).

Finally, after walking both sides of the river, they stop at a bench overlooking the rapids for a few minutes, just admiring the view.

Jughead can’t help but feel comforted by Betty’s hand in his, even if they are both wearing mittens. 

“Hello.” A voice from behind them says. 

Jughead turns towards it, expecting another early morning hiker. But this man doesn’t look like a hiker. His outfit is too polished for this hour and this location.

He also looks vaguely familiar somehow. He has orange hair like Archie and pale skin, but otherwise they look nothing alike.

“Hi.” Jughead says, and then because the man continues to stand there not moving he asks, “Do I know you?”

“We went to school together. I’m Jason Blossom.”

Jughead feels his stomach clench. Betty squeezes down on his hand.

“Hi, I’m Betty Cooper, and this is Junebug Jones,” Betty says, a stiff smile on her lips. 

“Nice to meet you, but I just wanted to talk to Jughead,” Jason says, his countenance, his gaze is piercing.

“Anything you want to say to me, she can hear,” Jughead replies. 

Jason looks away, as if to make his displeasure known, then he says, “I’ve heard you are going to be the new sheriff Jughead?”

Jughead feels the question reverberate through him. The unspoken implications clear - you work for me, or I will kill you. 

Jason’s resources are already clear, after all he found Jughead here, at an unexpected place and an unexpected time. 

Maybe if Jughead put his all into the job he could defeat Jason, take down the Blossom Empire like he’d taken down the Serpents. 

But at what cost? The safety of Betty and Junebug? The safety of himself?

“You misheard,” Jughead says. “We will be moving as soon as school gets out and it made no sense for me to take the job just to leave a few months later.”

“Good,” Jason says, a smug grin on his face. “We can go now. Come on Malachi.”

Out of the bushes Malachi emerges. A similar grin was on his face. He’s dressed in all black this time. His hair cut close to his head. He looks ordinary, innocuous almost. 

Jason heads towards Malachi and Malachi shouts, “I’m glad I haven’t had to kill you yet Jones.”

The two of them disappear into the woods. Betty’s hand might be trembling, or maybe it’s Jughead’s own hand that shakes. They are holding on to each other so tightly, it’s hard to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! Next up we are going into the future for an epilogue. 
> 
> I'd really appreciate any and all feedback. I'm so beyond nervous about this. Tell me what surprised you and what didn't. Tell me your favorite moment, please tell me anything. 
> 
> Also I'm so grateful you made it this far!


	11. Epilouge: 18 Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off a huge thank you to KittiLee for being wonderful and amazing! I feel so grateful to have her in my life, and she’s made this very long work of fiction much stronger by beta-ing it, but she’s also made my days brighter.
> 
> Secondly, thanks to every single person who commented, particularly everyone who commented on every chapter. You all have a place in my heart. You helped keep me motivated to write my very best. Thank you for following me on this story, that’s leaned a little towards sadness, but hopefully had a lot of light anyways.
> 
> This is by far the most successful multi-chapter work I’ve ever written in terms of comments, and I’m so grateful for that, but I’m also thankful for the kudo’s and the tumblr re-blogs, and the likes. I’m also grateful for everyone who took some time out of their busy day to read. It is also by far the longest story I’ve written in terms of fanfiction.

June wakes up with Emma snuggled into her side and Thomas flopped over her feet. 

Thomas is awake and reading something about space, but Emma is sound asleep, breath heavy and slow.

It’s funny to think that a few months from now, waking like this won’t be normal anymore. She’ll live with a roommate who will sleep in a separate twin bed, not younger siblings who follow her around like puppy dogs.

“Junebug, wake up!” Betty shouts through the door. 

“Mom, It’s June now, not Junebug,” June reminds her, pleadingly. Even if she’s half asleep she still always believes in uphill battles. “Junebug is a childish name.”

June can’t see Betty roll her eyes, but she knows that she probably is. Betty helped June change her name legally two years ago, but she is still reluctant to call her anything but Junebug at home. 

Jughead in his typical stubborn fashion had doubled down and refers to her as “The Bug” while out and about.

“If you’re still planning to go to Philadelphia today, we’ve got to get going in an hour. Oatmeal’s already on the stove.”

“I am. Thanks, mom.”

“I love you. Are Thomas and Emma in there too?”

“We are.” Thomas shouts back, “You woke up Emma.”

“Good. I want you to be dressed and fed by the time Aunt Ronnie, Uncle Archie, and the cousins get here.”

“Mom, I’m twelve. I don’t need anyone to look after me now. I can even look after Emma myself.” 

Thomas scrambles out of bed and throws the door open. June thinks he must be puffing out his chest with pride, but she can’t see that.

June can see Betty, now that the door is open, standing there with her hair down, and basket of laundry. There’s a smile on her face.

Emma laughs, “Maybe you can, but It will be so much more fun to spend time with the cousins. Maybe Aunt Ronnie will give me a pedicure again.”

“If we were just gone for the day, Thomas, you’d do a great job, but overnight is a little different,” Betty says. 

Thomas huffs.

“Hurry up,” Betty says, walking off, the laundry basket still on her hip.

June does hurry. As the littles watch, she scrambles to pack her overnight bag and then they all go down to eat breakfast together. 

Jughead’s still at the kitchen table, a spoon in one hand and a coffee mug inscribed with the word's “World’s Weirdest Dad” on the side.

He looks less relaxed than usual. His foot keeps tapping the floor nervously. 

June feels the same anxiety pulse through her. It’s been a long time since she’s seen her biological dad. 

Sweet Pea sends letters every two weeks. Often, they are comprised mostly of hand drawn cartoon versions of his daily life, because he claims he’s not really a writer. Although sometimes he’ll have a half dozen post-it notes tacked onto the end. 

But they haven’t spoken since she went to Boston three years ago to visit him. WITSEC really frowns on phone calls and they mail everything for him. Even the visits are huge ordeals. 

In all likelihood they won’t end up in Philadelphia, halfway through the drive an officer in WITSEC will call and they’ll be redirected. 

Reading Sweet Pea’s letters does help her feel close to him, loved by him. But last time in Boston, talking to him felt painful. It had just been a long awkward rant from Sweet Pea about how much high school sucked. When he finally lapsed into silence, June didn’t have a clue what to say.

It must be hard on Sweet Pea too. June calls Jughead “dad” and Betty “mom”, it would be strange not to. They’ve raised her and loved her since well before her memories started to form. 

Sweet Pea was the stranger who sent drawings and who she saw every few years, they were her family. 

Yet she couldn't just ignore Sweet Pea’s existence either. When she looked in the mirror, she saw his nose, his eyes, his hair even. 

In the last decade no one had mistaken her for Betty and Jughead’s biological daughter. Strangers always assumed she was Jughead’s from a previous relationship, and June let them assume that. 

She, Betty, and Jughead were a family for a long time before the littles showed up. No matter how much she loves the little’s she still get’s frustrated by them sometimes. She remembers how much simpler life was before they got their.

June digs into her peanut butter oatmeal and takes a long sip of her coffee. It’s a little too strong, which means Jughead made it.

“Dad, can I have more maple syrup?” Emma asks, her eyes are pleading.

“Check with your mom,” Jughead says.

“She’ll just say no!” Emma whines.

“Then I’m saying no, too.” 

Emma groans but takes another big bite. June doesn’t know what she’s complaining about. Her oatmeal tastes plenty sweet, it’s a nice contrast to the dark coffee.

“Can I visit you at work on Monday?” Thomas asks.

June is just starting her summer job at the local theater in downtown Tarrytown. It’s dilapidated and small, only playing second and third run movies, but she worked there last year and loved it.

All the employees are her friends, and their boss is laid back and relaxed. The only downside is how much the littles love the theater. They’d come every day if they could. It’s within walking distance and they get the family of employee discount, which is to say June’s friends look in the other direction. 

“Wait till Tuesday. Monday is my first day back.”

Thomas groans, “But Vertigo’s playing on Monday, it’s my favorite.”

“Is it really?” Jughead says, putting his mug down. “Last time I tried to watch it, you protested.”

“Not that much!”

“You made picket signs that said ‘Down with Hitchcock’,” June says. 

The doorbell rings and the littles spring to their feet and dash for it.

June rolls her eyes and says, “Kids.” 

Jughead chuckles and stands up slowly. By the time June makes it to the front hall, all of the Andrews are inside. Their daughter Kira is a year older than Thomas and their son Jon is exactly Emma’s age. Everyone is hugging.

James is there also, which is a bit of a surprise. Although a good one. 

He’s all wild curly hair and long limbs, and she’s glad to see him. He pulls her into a hug. They aren’t dating, but she’s not sure the term friends accurately describes them anymore, even if it did for years.

James’s older than her, so much so that this is his last year of university after starting a year late, while this is her first one.

“I wanted to see you before you left,” James said, his gaze meeting hers.

“I’m not going away for very long,” she says. She’s grateful that everyone else is too caught up in each other to pay attention to the way her hand reaches for his.

“Long enough,” James says. “Can we go for a walk?”

“Just around the block. You know how my mom is when she has a schedule. Even though right now it looks like she won’t ever stop talking to Veronica, she will still have the car packed and ready to go in two minutes.”

James laughs as they walk out. No one appears to have noticed, but June knows that Betty probably has anyways. June likes to joke that in another lifetime Betty was a spy instead of a high school principal, although observation is an important skill set when it comes to both jobs. 

The block June lives on is tree lined with immaculately kept yards and houses that are too big for the couples that live in them. June’s never adjusted to the neighborhood. They’ve lived here for five years, but after so many years of moving for Betty’s job it still feels temporary. 

Jughead’s always worked at home. He’s the one who usually does the laundry and sweeps the floors now, although when the kids were little he was more focused on childcare. 

In any case, Jughead claims that household chores help him write better. June suspects that he does so many to help Betty have a better work/life balance. 

James holds June’s hand and they walk slowly. The block is empty and there’s not much street traffic at this time in the morning. 

“Are you looking forward to seeing Sweet Pea?” James asks.

“I don’t think that’s the right choice of words,” June says, and exhales, “I’m not sure why I’m going really.”

James doesn’t say anything in response. That’s part of what June likes about him. They know each other so well and for so long that they don’t really have to talk about things.

James knows her complicated family history, and she knows his. She might not really remember Diane, who died when June was 7 and James 11, but she’s heard a lot about her. 

Diane was a good mother, the kind one misses. It was Diane that was in James life everyday for the first four years. She was his constant. As much as James had grown to love Archie, he’d always be aware that he missed some fundamental years. 

Diane regretted making the choice to keep Archie in the dark, but it didn’t change the fact that she had.

June’s situation was different. She had two great parents who loved each other. They were all that she could remember. 

Everything that she heard about Jellybean seemed nice. According to Betty, Jellybean used to sing _I love you forever_ , every time she put June to sleep, and that she was trying to learn how to knit when she died, so that she could make June a sweater. 

Jughead always talked about how Jellybean horded food in her pockets exactly like June did. 

Even after hearing all the stories, Jellybean never felt real to June the way Betty and Jughead were. 

When June got her appendix out at ten, they were there. They helped her bind her first book of poems and they took way too many pictures of her many attempts at being athletic. 

Other kids her age rebelled against their parents and June wasn’t perfect, but she knew better than to take them for granted. They chose her, and they loved her. They waited years to have their own children so that she wouldn’t feel replaced or edged out in any way.

It’s not that Betty and Jughead were so great they rendered Sweet Pea irrelevant, although James had awkwardly made that joke once, but they had gone to great lengths to keep her in their lives, to make her theirs, and Sweet Pea simply had not. 

Betty and Jughead didn’t talk much about the investigation into Jellybean’s death, and the newspaper’s reports on their involvement are minimal, but June’s fairly confident that Jughead’s third book, and first bestseller, deals with that investigation

From that, and a few fairly blunt questions she asked Sweet Pea herself, she knows that Sweet Pea chose to be in her life only casually, well before WITSEC whisked him away. He acted as a sort of uncle, instead of a father. 

She never turned down seeing him, but she was also never sure why she said yes. It was a mystery she had yet to solve about herself.

“You don’t have to go,” James says, squeezing her hand. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“I know that.” June sighs. “I guess whenever I see him, I try to look for clues about myself. But it never really works out.”

“What do you mean?” James asks, with a head shake that’s pure Archie.

“Most people know what they’ve inherited from their parents. I’m not talking about looks, that’s easy enough to figure out, but in terms of nervous tics and movie preferences. Like my love of poetry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“Jughead writes.”

June restrains herself from saying that her poems are the furthest things from mystery novels, and just shrugs her shoulders, “It’s different.”

James nods “Sometimes I wish I could verify that some of the personality traits I think came from my mom, actually did, so I get it.”

June’s grateful for that. James, even if he doesn’t understand what she’s saying at first, still tries to parse it.

They’re almost back at the house now. It’s a solid two story white dutch colonial. It’s never going to feel as much like home as the series of apartments they lived in, in Chicago, but it’s certainly more picturesque and pest free. 

“I’m going to miss you,” James says it so quietly, June can barely hear him. 

She smiles, “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Coffee on Monday?” 

“I work all day.”

“What about at nine? Think Cafe is open late.”

June wonders if it’s a date or not, but she’s not brave enough to clarify. She’ll be there either way. “That sounds great.”

James blushes a little, and June’s pretty sure it is in fact a date.

Betty opens the door and says, “June, we’ve got to go.”

June hugs James goodbye quickly, then Archie and Veronica and all the littles. By the time June makes it into the car with her bags, Betty’s in the front seat looking impatient. 

“Sorry,” June says as she slides into the backseat. 

“We are still waiting on Jug,” Betty says with a sigh.

Jug enters the garage, hair halfway to crazy, overnight bag unzipped and notebook hanging out.

He slides into the front passenger seat, kisses Betty on the cheek, too quickly for June to avert her eyes and says, “I love you guys.”

June stops herself from rolling her eyes. Jughead’s such a softie. 

“But will you love us two hours from now when we are all stuck in traffic.”

“I loved you while fearing for my life, traffic has nothing on that,” Jughead says as Betty pulls out of the garage.

“You didn’t both have to come with me. I could have even driven myself to Philly,” June says. Although truthfully, if she had driven herself, she probably would have turned around an hour in, having lost her nerve. 

“We want to be there,” Betty says.

“Besides, it’s a good excuse for us to eat some good food and see a city we’ve never been to. And by us, I mean Betty and I.” Jughead winks.

“You’d better take me out to dinner,” June groans. “How long am I supposed to stay with Sweet Pea?”

“We’re going to meet you back downtown around six,” Betty says. “You’re just going to spend the afternoon together.”

June can’t help but feel relieved by that. She puts in her earphones to distract her from her parents flirty bantering.

It’s a little embarrassing how much they love each other. At graduation, June’s best friend Kylie had caught them kissing twice on the mouth. That’s not how parents are supposed to behave. Particularly ones that have been married as long as Jughead and Betty. 

For once WITSEC doesn’t redirect them and they actually end up in Philadelphia. 

By the time they check into their hotel, June feels on edge, jittery with nerves. She wants to go for a run before seeing Sweet Pea, but there’s no time.

Instead Jughead drives June to a park near the art museum while Betty points out all the landmarks she can see. 

She can tell her parents are nervous too. She’s not sure why. For as long as she’s been alive, Betty’s never been in contact with her parents, and Jughead never talked to FP after they left Riverdale, so that could be part of it.  
Sweet Pea’s standing near the museum steps, looking like the ex-con he is. He approaches the car with a wave “Hi, Betty, Jug, June.”

There’s a nervous tension running through his body, but June can’t judge him for that. She’s pretty sure the same tension is running through hers.

As the grown-ups exchange pleasantries and logistical information, she gets out of the car. She doesn’t hug Sweet Pea, instead she just stands awkwardly beside him as they wave as Betty and Jughead drive away. 

“Have you been here before?” Sweet Pea asks.

June doesn’t know if he’s asking about the city or the museum, but since she hasn’t been to either before, she says “No.”

“Have you eaten?”

Betty had packed sandwiches in the car and June had eaten them, but that had been over an hour ago, “I could go for some food,” she says with a shrug. 

They end up walking away from the art museum for quite some time before they get to a hole in the wall Vietnamese place. The walk is mostly in silence, with Sweet Pea talking a little about his construction job and his girlfriend, Amy.

But once they find a nearby park to eat the banh mi’s in, Sweet Pea breaks the silence by asking where June’s going to school in the fall. 

“NYU,” she says casually, as if she wasn’t panicking for months about making it in. 

“You want to go there right?”

“Yeah, why?”June asks.

Sweet Pea shrugs, “I just want to make sure you’re going because you want to, not because you have to.”

June doesn’t understand the question entirely. Yes, college is optional, and expensive (although her education is already covered by the sale of her mother’s house, many years ago), but it’s also something she’s looked forward to for years. 

She wants to be able to choose her courses and study what she is actually interested in for the most part.

“Why do you ask?”

Sweet Pea shakes his head, “Your mom and me, neither of us had any interest in higher education. Hell, even Jughead doesn’t have his degree. It’s just, you’ll be the first one to go to college. But I want you to do this for you, not Betty.”

June feels very confused for a number of reasons, so it takes her a few seconds to collect her thoughts. Then she says, “Ok, first off, Jug has his degree. He went to college before Thomas was born. He was interested to see what it was like. And secondly, Betty’s not the most mellow mother in the world, but with something like college, she would never put pressure on me.”

“Oh. Ok.”

“Is this because she’s a principle?”

Sweet Pea laughs and his face actually relaxes a little. “Maybe. Authority figures have always made me feel nervous. I didn’t use to feel that way about her.”

It’s strange because June’s never really seen Sweet Pea interact with either Betty or Jughead very much at all. Only very quick exchanges during the hand-offs and pick-ups.

“Did you use to spend a lot of time with mom, err, Betty?” June asks.

“Of course. Before you were born, and after. Betty and Jelly were linked at the hip. After Jelly died, I saw Betty all the time, before I was arrested. I’d visit you and she’d make dinner. I still miss her chicken and dumpling soup.”

“It’s good,” June says. She’s tried to make it before for herself and it doesn’t taste the same.

“Does she still make salads a lot?” Sweet Pea’s nose scrunches with distaste. June laughs.

“Too much. There’s also these tofu stir fries she insists are healthy, but they only taste good with a cup of hot sauce.”

Sweet Pea smiles and nods, “That sounds about right.”

“You drew a cartoon about that once, right? Was that about Betty?”

Sweet Pea shakes his head, “Unfortunately, Amy’s the same way.”

June has never met his girlfriend and she probably never will. That’s not the kind of meeting WITSEC likes. Too many variables, too many options. But she knows they must be serious. They’ve been together for almost a decade now. 

“How is she?” June asks.

“Good, mostly.” Sweet Pea pauses and looks at his feet and then says, “She’s pregnant.”

“Wow,” June says. She knows she should say something supportive like congratulations, but instead she just feels shocked. Instead June wants to say something like, are you going to leave Amy too, but she knows that isn’t exactly fair. 

It’s not like her bio parent’s relationship was straight forward or normal. It’s not like the situation she was born into was anything like this one. 

Sweet Pea might be thinking similarly intense thoughts because his eyes are glazed over and he’s focused on the middle distance, which is in fact a small play structure. 

“When’s she due? Do you know the gender?” June asks.

“It’s going to be a boy and Amy’s due in January. We were hoping you could come visit after. I already asked WITSEC about it.” 

That was really overwhelming. It was one thing to have a theoretical baby brother that one might never meet, and another to make a date to meet it in the future. 

When Thomas was born, June was so jealous she apparently cut her own hair with a pair of scissors in a cry for attention. By the time Emma was born she was excited about having a sister to take care of.

This baby won’t be like either of them, even though she’ll share the same amount of genes with them. 

But in spite of herself, and the large age gap, June finds that she’s excited by the thought of having a half sibling.

“Sure. I’d love to meet them,” June says, staring at Sweet Pea. She wonders what the baby will be like. Hell, she wonders what Amy is like. Is she anything like the cartoon version of herself, all soft curves and kind words?

Sweet Pea meets Junes gaze and says, “I want you to know, that I am going to be a good dad for this new child, in a way that I never was for you. I’m going to be there for them every step of the way, and I’m sorry for not being there for you.”

Being raised by Betty has led June to know all the things she could say to make Sweet Pea feel better, but because she was also raised by Jughead, she knows better than to say any of them. 

But she’s glad he’s spoken these words out loud. She should feel jealous of this new child, of the attention and love they’ll get, but she can’t be, because she was raised by two parents that gave her great love and attention. 

“Thank you for telling me that,” June says.

“They did a really good job raising you,” Sweet Pea says, and June can swear she sees a tear in his eye, but maybe it’s just a trick of the light. 

“I know. I love them.”

She wants to say more than that, to tell him that they are her real family, while he is just a stranger. But it would be mean and serve no purpose. Plus, he probably already knows that. So June stays silent. 

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

They are both finished with their sandwiches now. June hadn’t planned to finish hers, but it was much better than she thought it would be, and she couldn't stop.

“Yeah, sure.” she says. The bench has grown a little cold, and it’s easier to walk and talk, the silences less awkward. 

In the end they talk about a lot of things, June’s poetry, Thomas’s obsession with fingerprints, and the history of Philadelphia. There are awkward moments here and there, but mostly it’s fine, the vibrating nerve of tension June usually feels on these trips is muted. 

When they hug goodbye, June realizes she actually wants to see him in the spring and meet Amy and the baby.

But she’s also relieved to go out for amazing ramen with Betty and Jughead. The bowls they get are bigger than their heads, and Betty doesn’t finish over half, but June and Jughead slurp their’s clean.

June knows it’s not cool to admit this, but she always finds it fun to spend the evening with her parents, and not the littles. They end up going out for a gory action movie and walking back to the hotel in the dark.

Jughead’s talking about the murder he’s planning for the plot of his new book, and Betty keep’s trying to point out all his plot holes.

It’s a pretty typical moment in their lives, but June feels so happy. So grateful that she has two parents who love each other, and hold hands, banter and tease.

Then Jughead makes a move to kiss Betty and June forgets all those warm and fuzzy feelings, and yells, “Eww… Gross!”

Jughead ignores her, as he usually does, and goes in for the kiss. June averts her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Bonus Headcanon’s: 
> 
> Halfway through university June changes her name back to Junebug - she’s grown into it, she tells herself, and anyone else who will listen.
> 
> Junebug gives up on poetry before grad school. She writes non-fiction for a while, then settles on writing mystery novels. That’s how she ends up making her living. Thomas becomes a legendary detective, and the subject of many of his sister’s most successful novels.  
> Emma surprises everyone by becoming a biologist. 
> 
> Sweet Pea’s second child, Lowell, and Junebug never become close till Lowell goes to NYU. He can’t afford to live in a dorm and he crashes in Junebug’s guest bedroom for a whole year. They become inseparable.
> 
> Betty and Jughead spend the five years between the kids leaving the nest and the first grandchild being born, traveling the world, and having wonderful relaxing adventures. 
> 
> -
> 
> I’ve got a little bit of this universe left in me, I’ve already written a few drabbles, and I’m trying to figure out if they’ll build to something more (AKA KittiLee is motivating me to turn them into something more - spoiler alert: It's working). 
> 
> Favorite moments? Favorite lines? I want to hear any thoughts you have. Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Very grateful for all comments!


End file.
